Mind Over Matter
by anicklesworth
Summary: 30 years have passed since Nora has become the Director of the Institute. Her companions have either sided with her, or against her; some are alive, while others lay long dead in the ground. All the while, a past love dwells in the pain of losing her. Enter V: a woman with a deep, dark secret that could shake the very foundation Nora has rebuilt the Institute on. Next chpt Nov 30
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"My name is Jack Cabot; and, being of sound mind and body, I will give my last will and testament."

Nora paused the recording and looked up at synth X6-88. "This was all you found at the house?"

X6-88 shook his head. "I also found Jack Cabot's body. He died from trauma to the chest. His heart stopped beating on impact, his chest had concaved from whatever had made contact. I also found the remains of X6-81. I removed his memory chip for your records. Perhaps we can see what happened?"

Nora nodded. "My thoughts exactly; thank you, X6. You may go now."

"Shall I take _him_ back to Diamond City?"

The "him" X6 was referring to sat in the corner of the spotless, white office; a cigarette hanging from his slightly mangled mouth. Nick Valentine still wore his signature trench coat, hat, and suit. After years and years of travels, he was still living up to his detective persona. He had accompanied X6 to the Cabot house once he heard Jack had finally kicked the bucket. Now, he was interested in finding out why Nora wanted his home searched.

Nora smiled at Nick, and then turned to X6. "It's okay, X6," she said. "I'll escort him back to Diamond City myself – once we are finished here."

She could tell that X6 wanted to say something. His heavily tinted sunglasses hid his eyes, but his body language tipped her off to his hesitation. Thankfully, though, he stayed silent and exited her office without a word. Nora was relieved he didn't pursue the matter. She was far too interested in Jack Cabot's holotape, and was glad her old friend was there to help her fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Nick asked as he pulled his chair up to her large desk. "Let's load it up and listen."

Nora grinned and pressed play.

"My family and I have lived long, full lives, with the help of my father's blood. Unfortunately, after his mental state deteriorated, he had to be terminated, with Nora's help, of course. Now, the last of his serum has been used, and old age has finally caught up with us.

"I leave this holotape for you, Nora, the new Director of the Institute. I can only hope my distress beacon reaches you. There is more to my research than I had told you about previously, and it needs to be known before I die. My hope is that you can help.

"In my many years of study, I met many other brilliant minds who shared my passion of magic and the science of it. I was careful not to divulge any information to these acquaintances about my father's… condition, for obvious reasons. However, there was one man who eventually piqued my interest enough to share with.

"His name is Alistair Crowe. He was a scientist at the Boston University and majored in rocket propulsion systems and dreamed of a day we would send humans into space. He had a deep respect for, and interest in humankind, and wrote many a thesis on the advancement of homo sapiens' stamina, psyche and, most importantly, their lifespan.

"See, he knew our current lifespan of a mere eighty years stopped us short of realizing our full potential. At the age of forty-one, he already felt the toll of his mortality, and he feared his research would never be fully recognized. Shortly after our first meeting, Alistair's research was put on hold to work on the Manhattan Project. This furthered his distress of never fully realizing his life's work, and he wrote to me numerous times about his fears.

"I found a sort of kindred spirit in the man. After all, I was relatively young – so to speak – and my own research was somewhat similar to Crowe's; how could I _not_ want to share with a man as passionate to see the human race succeed as I was? So, I began to supply Alistair with my serum, allowing him extended life and access to my work. For the next hundred years, our friendship would flourish and our minds were kept sharp by each other's scientific views and discoveries. By 1961, Alistair was able to realize his first major success in his field, and sent Carl Bell into space!

"However, Bell's tragic end also led to the end of Crowe's research funding. He was angry, defeated. Years of friendship began to unravel as he began to slip into solitude to work on a new thesis, using my serum as his focus. He wanted to enhance the human race: to make us faster, smarter, stronger. He wanted us to excel at a pace we would not be able to sustain due to the evolution of our DNA. He wrote to me multiple times, refusing to see me, but always sharing the details of his work. He advanced to human trials quickly – too quickly; and his tampered serums would turn them into vegetables, their brains not yet evolved enough to handle such a genetic mutation that he was introducing.

"I officially lost track of him in 2059, shortly after the first AI was created. His final letter was cryptic in its message, but he says he has finally found the key four our survival, thanks to our newly constructed artificial intelligence. He wrote that the pieces of his work were finally fitting together, and all he needed now were more test subjects. He claimed to have all the serum he could ever need for his work, and that we would see each other again once he crafted his perfect being.

"Nora… Nora, the courser you sent to me all those years ago has finally brought back results. Alistair's lab was found inside of Vault 35. It was built under Columbia University and was powered off Time Square's power grid and backup generators. I believe he became employed by Vault Tec to continue his demented experiments on the Vault dwellers that were unlucky enough to be accepted.

"But Nora… he _succeeded_. The crazy bastard actually _did it_. The man was able to fully transfer human consciousness into a synthetic body. I-I can't be sure _how_ he did it, or what he now hopes to accomplish; but I have solid proof with the courser X6-81's footage that was recorded into his memory chip. Check the logs dating back to September 19 and you'll see two people amongst the fallen buildings. The man in the long coat is Alistair, of that I have no doubt in my mind. The woman he is with _must_ be his synth… or human… or whatever you'd call it.

"Nora, please, this technology is dangerous. There is no one else I can trust with this information. I trust you will keep her hidden and isolated, and deal with Crowe as you see fit. I have left coordinates with X6-81, and his memories will take you to the last known location of Crowe and this woman.

"Please, Nora. Please find them before Alistair is able to create more like her. The world will depend on their destruction-"

The recording suddenly cut out, leaving Nick and Nora in a heavy silence.

Nick took a final, long drag of his cigarette and scrunched it in the ashtray on Nora's desk. He exhaled and looked at his old friend. "So, where's the memory chip?"

Nora brought out a small rectangle with gold plating along the inside. The thing was so small, about half the size of Nick's cigarette pack and half the width. The things Nora had been able to accomplish had amazed Nick since she began at the Institute. He had been skeptical of her decision, at first, for obvious reasons; but to see the changes happening in the Commonwealth with his own eyes put any uneasiness to rest.

"So… where do you put it?"

Nora smiled. "It's a very new technology. We've created an image transmitter that will play whatever image was recorded on this chip. To do so, we've had to build a bigger computer. Follow me."

The two left Nora's office and they headed down one of the many white corridors of the Institute. Nick could feel a definite change in the air all around him. Synths were no longer slaves to the scientists and doctors who resided here. They were paid employees, and some had even become higher ups in the science divisions. Anyone living in the Institute was now allowed to come and go as they pleased and could even relocate to the Commonwealth, if they chose. That being said, the people of the Commonwealth were also allowed into the Institute to work, explore, (with guided tours, of course) or bring any concerns they had to Nora.

She had changed the world, according to many. Some, of course, did not agree with all of her decisions; but such is the politics of humans.

Nora led Nick to the Synth Reassessment Bureau; another of Nora's changes. They walked in to numerous holding cells, some populated with synths that were under arrest for numerous crimes. They would be tried and convicted under the Bureau's discretion, and be reprogrammed, released, or removed completely, based on their sentence.

Nick thought it a fair, if slightly flawed system of justice.

They continued up the spiral stairs and entered a large room full of equipment with blinking lights, switches, knobs and gears. Some things Nick had never even seen before now clicked and buzzed and beeped away, all working in unison to power the large computer that engulfed half of the room's space. Nora pulled a chair up to a large keyboard and began to type in commands. She placed the chip into an open slot in the large machine and waited.

A very dim light slowly emitted from a screen on the machine, and soon the whole square was illuminated with a black and white still image. The picture was fuzzy, and the image flickered and bounced slightly, but Nick knew what this was. His old memories brought up long nights of his human self, sitting on his couch, drinking a beer, and watching the latest program on his television.

Nick's eyes widened. "Nora…"

Her smile was proud, beaming, and making her appear years younger. She laughed.

"TV again, Nick, can you believe it? Slowly we're getting there. Now," she edged closer to the screen and typed a quick command. "Let's see what X6-81 was able to give us."

The image began to play and Nick saw the usual destruction he always saw since the end of the Great War of 2077. Buildings crumbling, roads destroyed, dead trees and garbage everywhere. There were rusted, long forgotten cars littering the sides of the ripped apart roads and skeletal remains lying here and there from people long since dead and forgotten. However, in the distance, he thought he saw a small shadow amongst the rooftops. At first, he and Nora thought it was a glitch in X6-81's system; but at the shadow got bigger, they realized how wrong they were.

It was a person. A _person_ was jumping from one rooftop to the next in a single leap. A _person_ was scaling the ruins of Time Square without stopping to catch their breath, and without any caution or fear of bodily harm.

X6-81 obviously thought the sight was bizarre as well, and he got closer. A few yards ahead was a man wearing a lab coat, watching the person overhead and documenting what they could only surmise were the results of testing. He was writing down furiously and it wasn't until a raider's gun was pointed at his back that stopped and raised his hands.

"No audio?" Nick asked.

Nora shook her head. "Baby steps. Just keep your eyes sharp."

The man they could only assume was Alistair slowly turned to face his attacker. The raider was yelling at Alistair, most likely threatening him for his belongings, or caps, or weapons. Alistair, however, seemed unaffected by the intimidation. He said something back to the armor clad raider which was not accepted well, and the raider began to shove the gun in Alistair's face.

Alistair just smiled, raising his arms in defense, though he opened one of his raised hands, revealing a remote control and casually flicked one of the switches on it and winked at the raider.

In an instant, the stunt woman from the rooftops landed just behind the attacker. The raider turned abruptly, thrown off by the sudden arrival of this woman. Without missing a beat, two hands were at the side of his head and his body went rigid, gun discarded, and arms struggling against her.

"What is she doing?" Nick asked as he and Nora inched closer to the screen.

The raider continued to fight in her grasp, clawing at her hands and seeming to plead with her. It was then that her hands suddenly came together in a spray of red blood and chunks of skull and brain.

She had squeezed his head.

She squeezed it, and it had popped like a ripe tato.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Nora yelled. She and Nick both nearly fell backwards off of their chairs from shock. The recording stopped and Nora and Nick stared at each other in disbelief.

"I'm not the only one who just saw that, right?" Nora asked, her heart still racing from the shock.

Nick shook his head. "I saw it, all right. Can't say I'd want to see it _again,_ but I saw it."

"Cabot was right. Alistair has created something that should have never been."

"Now, let's not get too hasty," Nick warned. "Remember, this woman is apparently human. I doubt that she volunteered for this."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well," Nick pulled out another cigarette. He damn near _needed_ it now. "When that Alistair guy put his hands up, he had a control in his hands. He must have some sort of command chip implanted into her so she obeys his orders."

"Nick, that doesn't make her any less dangerous, if it's true."

"It makes her less guilty."

Nora scoffed. "How do we know it's not simply a distress signal? She could be acting in her own right mind."

Nick took a puff of his cigarette and exhaled. "Well, I guess we'll have to find them and find out the truth."

Nora nodded, typing away at the computer. "I'll let the Reassessment Bureau know so they can take the necessary precautions for their cells."

Nick turned to her, his expression surprised. "You mean you'll bring them here?"

"Well, where else would I bring them, Nick?" she asked, sighing as she removed the memory chip and logged out of the computer. "There isn't anywhere else capable of holding a madman and his pet synth killer."

"Alleged," Nick defended. Then, he pointed at Nora. "And you, you're sounding a little too much like your son."

She slammed her file folder on the desk. Angry eyes turned in Nick's direction and she seethed.

"Excuse me?"

Nick was unaffected by her anger. He knew her better than most and knew that she was a smart woman. However, sometimes her emotions could cloud her better judgement. Changing the Institute from the scary, human stealing, synth enslaving monster it was into what it had become was no easy feat. Nora had needed to make difficult decisions; some that Nick knew would haunt her for the rest of her days. She had made a lot of enemies in her years of being Director, both inside the Institute and outside in the Commonwealth. There were times where she had to be cold and calculating; but he couldn't let her slip into the persona her son had once put forward all those years ago. She still had that pre-war humanity in her; she still had compassion and a sense of justice. He had to remind her of that.

Causally, he put out his cigarette and put his hand in his pockets. "Innocent until proven guilty, Nora. You've always said that. Cabot's testament is enough to prove this Alistair guy is a nut job. But that remote proves that girl could be one hundred percent innocent. I say we keep them separate and get their stories separately. Let's be smart about this, and get a good grasp on the situation before we act."

"But not here?" Nora challenged.

Nick stared at Nora, his eyes locking on to hers as he walked closer to her. He pulled his hands from his pockets and gently placed them on her shoulders. The wrinkles around her eyes reminded him of just how much time had passed since they first met. However, she was still as fiery as before, still as determined and that was what he admired the most about her.

He'd give his life for hers, artificial or not, and he trusted her with his own.

"Is it safe?" he asked, his voice sincere.

He wasn't sure if it was the tone of his voice, or his question that caused Nora to pause and calm herself. He watched her shoulders loosen, the tension slowly slipping away, and finally, she relaxed and thought hard about his question.

Tension had always been in the Institute ever since she was appointed Director after her son had passed away. It was not common for succession of the Board to be handed down through blood line, and it _certainly_ wasn't common for an outsider of the Commonwealth to not only be welcomed inside the walls of the secret organization, but to be made the head of the company? It made many powerful people in the Institute angry. Coupled with the changes she had made, despite many vehement protests, well, the risk of inside enemies betraying her with this new technology that has yet to be researched was high – too high for Nora to risk it.

With a deep breath, Nora shook her head. "No," she sighed, feeling defeated. Rubbing her temples, she wracked her brain trying to think of where to take them. "We could take them to Vault 111? They cryo pods can easily be made operational again."

"Not enough security," Nick replied. "We need a place where they can be under constant watch. Somewhere no one would bat an eye to harboring fugitives or mad scientists…"

Nora glared at Nick, crossing her arms. She knew exactly where he was going with this.

"No."

"Now, Nora-"

"Nick, no, absolutely not." She walked past the battered synth and left the room, signaling that she was done with the conversation.

Nick followed. He wasn't finished.

"Nora, it's been over thirty years now."

She continued walking. "There isn't enough time in the world, Nick. Besides, he wants nothing to do with me."

Nick kept up with her fast pace, following behind her. "Now, you don't know that-"

Abruptly, she stopped and turned, making Nick stop in his tracks.

"Thirty one years, two months and five days ago. That's how long it's been since he made me choose either _him_ or the Institute. I tried to make him understand, Nick, oh boy did I try; but he didn't want to listen. _He_ walked away from _me._ " Nora stated, her temper flaring again as an old pain that she hadn't felt in decades came crawling back into her chest. She steadied herself and drew in a long breath, her tone normalizing. "He walked away, Nick. And he told me to never show my face in Goodneighbor ever again."

Nick's face softened. He slowly took steps towards his old friend as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. He took her fleshy, human hand in his own stripped mechanical one and gently squeezed it.

"He was hurting, Nora, you both were. Things were said, but we need John's help now. Like you said, we can't keep those two here. Goodneighbor, for what it is, is the most secure place I can think of aside from here."

Nora groaned and shook her head. "We're going to Goodneighbor, aren't we?"

Nick grinned. "Afraid so, kid."

"Well… goddammit."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Hey! V! My guitar string broke, again. Do you have any left?"

Impossibly vibrant and bright blue eyes rolled as a young woman grinned. "You strum way too hard, Evan." She put her stale potato chips down and crawled over to a young man with dark brown hair. Plopping herself down next to him, she took the instrument and rummaged through her pack.

"Hey, you're the first to ever complain about how hard I go," Evan grinned.

She shook her head. "Sorry, junior, but I have the wrong equipment for your needs. The guitar, however…" She eyed the broken string, and began to work away to replace it.

"Just take the string off. I'll replace it," he offered.

V smiled, brushing a lock of pure white hair from her eyes. "Another few seconds, and that string could have snapped and taken your eye out. She's done, for sure." She lightly tossed the guitar back at Evan.

"Careful!" he yelled, and V laughed.

"It's all yours, Amadeus."

"This isn't a piano."

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

V made her way back to her pack and stretched, settling on top of the large blanket and resuming her midnight snack. She and her companions had been travelling for nearly two months now, becoming what she deemed as "Post-Apocalypse Minstrel-Mercenaries". Five of them travelled from town to town, instruments and guns in tow, performing for food, caps, or any supplies that were offered. It had been a tough road; but since the destruction of their home in Old Greenwich, they had little choice.

Besides, the end game was worth it.

She felt Evan sit next to her as the small fire continued to crackle. He reached over a stole a handful of chips from her bag. Then they sat, staring up at the night sky.

"Do you think he's still looking for you?"

V sighed. "Probably. I doubt he'd ever believe I was dead."

Evan swallowed his mouthful of chips. "How safe do you think we are?"

"Well, on a scale of one to Not Fucking Likely… I'd say, like, a negative seventeen?" V crumpled the bag and chucked it back into her pack, still never one to litter, even in the ruins of the world around her. She lay back and put her hands behind her head. "If you only focus on the night sky, and nothing else around you, it's almost like nothing ever happened. I gotta say that for everything in this world that has changed, the stars are always relatively constant."

Evan pulled up the guitar and began to pluck at the strings, retuning it. "Did you watch the stars a lot, pre-war?"

V smiled. "As much as I could when I could leave the city. You couldn't really see them in New York; too many lights drowned them out. But there were times I'd get out of the city and just lay in the fields watching them twinkle. Then, I would smoke a shit ton of weed, get creative, and write songs until morning."

"Wow," Evan laughed. "I've never heard of someone actually travelling alone out here. Daytime, nighttime, we were always taught that it's safer to go in a small group – armed, of course. Always have night watches if you have to be out in the open, be wary of other travelers, especially if they are carrying guns, too. Dad taught us how to stay safe out here in nearly every scenario. Your world was so… backwards from this one. Peaceful."

"Trust me, it was far from peaceful," V replied. "You just had to make your own peace, when you could."

"Hey guys!" A rustle from a makeshift tent caught Evan and V's attention. A tall man walked out, dark hair in dreads that reached his lower back and his dark brown eyes were bloodshot from their night of drug use and lack of sleep. He stretched, yawned, and readjusted himself.

"Hey Rob," Evan greeted his brother with a slight wave of his hand.

Rob waved back. "Amber's Pip Boy went off. Guess that means it's our shift now."

V sat up and grinned. "Will you guys _actually watch_ tonight? Or am I going to have to be worried that my throat is going to be slit because you two can't keep it in your pants?... Again?"

Rob grinned. "Don't worry, V, we already took care of our 'situation'."

"ROB!" A shrill voice screamed from inside the tent, making everyone flinch. From the tent emerged a tall young woman with long blonde hair. She stepped up to Rob and punched his arm playfully while he laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Dude! We have to sleep there now!" Evan shouted.

"Shh!" Rob hushed his younger brother and him and Amber sat next to them by the fire. "Callie is still sleeping. We don't want to wake the beast," he grinned. "Besides, the tent is nice a warm now. You should be thanking us."

V and Evan both groaned, but gathered their packs and stood, grateful to at least be done their shift.

Amber chucked two inhalers their way. "Oh shut it and go to sleep, you babies. Some Jet will knock you both right out."

They caught the red containers and said their thanks, heading to the tent without another word. V was thankful that they had hit up the last medical center and found a nice stash of chems. They had been running low on Jet, and she had been taking half doses for her sleep. However, half doses didn't do much for her anymore, and they didn't keep her nightmares at bay.

She and Evan settled into their sleeping bags, removing clothing to get more comfortable. Evan gave her a 'good night nudge' and took his hit before settling in for the rest of the night. V, on the other hand, stayed up for a while, staring at the inhaler and rotating it in her hands. She thought back to the last year before the bombs were dropped, and went back to that little grove she used to escape to to write her music. It was so long ago, and yet, she could still smell the dew on the grass, she could still hear the crickets chirping in her ear, and she could still fell the cool, damp ground beneath her. She recalled the last time she visited and remembered being so high that she couldn't drive back to her apartment, so she had slept there, all night. No fires, no sleeping bags or tents, no look outs to make sure you didn't get murdered that night; just her and the world and all it had to offer her.

V could feel herself becoming homesick for her time, and finally took a long hit from the inhaler. Almost immediately, she felt the effects take over her as her thoughts became muddled and the dark shapes around her became blurry. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, a side effect of Jet only made stronger from her lack of sleep. She allowed her eyes to close, she allowed the warmth of the blankets to consume her; and finally, she allowed sleep to take her away, if only for a few hours.

"So, how much farther do you think, V? We've been travelling for almost two months now."

V swallowed her dried molerat and smiled at Amber. "Well, we're in the middle of the New Providence state, so the Commonwealth is probably another week of travel, at most."

"Another week?!" Amber nearly choked on her coffee, coughing and hacking and nearly dropping the mug.

"Careful!" Rob patted Amber's back and took hold of her coffee mug. "That's like, twenty caps a cup!" He looked over at V. "Does that time include rest stops?"

"It does not."

"So, just marching on for one week straight?"

"Yep."

Rob sighed. "I'm going to wake up Callie."

Callie and Evan were fraternal twins. When V had met them, she and Evan had become almost instant friends. They shared a sort of kindred bond. Callie, on the other hand, had always been suspicious of V. Now, ever since they had been forced to flee their farm, Callie had refused to say even one word to her, instead resorting annoyed glances at V and Evan's conversations, and speaking as if V wasn't even there.

Not that V could blame her, of course.

V cleared her throat and stood. "I'm going to, uh, go and pack up the caravan."

Evan rolled his eyes. "You don't have to leave every time Callie comes to the fire, V. It's been long enough, don't you think?"

"I doubt she'd agree with that," V said as she walked away. As she made her way to the two headed Brahmin that pulled their small cart, she picked up Evan's guitar and her own and began to strategically pack up, careful not to place fragile parts where the slightest bump in the road could wreck them. In the background she heard her friends talking and laughing every so often. She smiled to herself, but it felt forced. The last three decades of her life had seemed like one awful event after another, and even with her newfound companions and all the good times they've shared, she still felt solely responsible for their safety. Had she only travelled south, or west – hell, _anywhere_ other than Old Greenwich, all of their lives would be so different, and her friends would still be safe with their father back at their home.

Now, there home was gone, no thanks to her.

Amber nudged V in the shoulder and offered her the blankets from the tents.

"Here you go," she said with a smile. "Not sure where you want them, but at least they're folded."

V smiled back. "Thanks, Amber."

"Rob is just taking the tents down, now. We should be ready to go soon." Amber went to rejoin the twins at the campfire, Callie tossing a glare over to V as Amber sat down.

V could only sigh. "Just another week or so."

She finished packing them up while the others packed any leftover food and put out their fire. V hooked their Brahmin to the cart both of its heads a pat. She holstered her freshly cleaned handguns and swords and tucked a combat knife into her boot. Then, she walked the Brahmin and the cart over to the group.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

"Do we have enough supplies to make the remainder of the trip?" Rob asked while slinging his shotgun over his shoulder and taking Amber's hand.

V shook her head. "We should be able to make it about halfway with what we have left in ammunition and provisions." She dropped her backpack and rummaged inside, eventually pulling out an old map of pre-war America. She opened it and pointed to their location in New Providence. "We are literally in the middle of the state, now. I've hear the Commonwealth has this initial bomb drop zone called the 'Glowing Sea' in its lower west corner. So," she ran her finger up the map. "We want to travel north-northeast and stop in Brockton Pass. Once there, we can probably ask around about any information regarding Jack Cabot and the Institute."

"Or, we could just leave you and start fresh, without all of this bullshit." Callie muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Cal…" Evan warned.

She glared, narrowing her dark brown eyes on the group. "No, seriously, I've been quiet long enough. Just what the fuck are doing out here?" She laughed. "Honestly? We were _fine_ back in Greenwich. We were _happy_. Then this… this… abomination-"

"Callie!"

"No," she continued hotly. "That's exactly what she is! She's not quite human, she's not quite synth. She's both things, and that isn't right! Look what she's brought on our family!"

"That wasn't her fault," Evan retorted, his fists clenched and shaking with anger.

"Regardless!" Callie threw her hands up in the air. "We lost _everything_ because of her! The farm, dad, our home… It's all just gone." Callie took a shuddering breath, trying to keep her tears from falling. "And now, because of our dying father's last wish, we have to follow _her_? How is that fair?"

"She's family, Cal. We stay together with our family," Rob said, his tone firm. "End of story."

Callie frowned as Rob ushered everyone to start moving out. V ducked by Callie, her head down, long white hair covering her face so no one could see her shame. She could feel those dark eyes searing a hole in the back of her head.

They walked for hours in dead silence, Rob and Evan constantly on the lookout for any movements among the demolished buildings they passed. A few times they would have to backtrack and take other routes and roads due to road blocks or the telltale signs of Raider camps. V kept alert, always on edge, just waiting for something to spring out and attack. It wasn't until Evan fell behind and walked beside her that she realized just how tense she was.

"Hey," he said.

V said nothing.

Evan sighed. "Look, Callie didn't mean what she said-"

"Yes, she did."

"She's just grieving in her own way. Hell, we're all still trying to move past Greenwich, V. It isn't easy. You can't be mad at her for dealing with her feelings in her own way."

V stopped and turned to Evan, the look in her eyes breaking his heart. She always had sadness behind them, though she was usually good at hiding it. Today, however, there was no hiding, and he saw the evidence of tears that had fallen throughout the day.

"I'm not mad at Callie. I could never be mad at her for how she's feeling. She _should_ be mad. _You_ should be mad. _Rob and Amber_ should be mad. If I hadn't stumbled onto your doorstep last year your dad would… your dad…"

"Hey, hey," Evan comforted V by placing his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Dad was a wise old dude. He was kind, and honest, and really good at reading people. He would never have regretted taking you in, and neither do we." He sighed and brought V in for an awkward, one-armed hug. "So don't go thinking that we're better off. We are right where we need to be; and whatever happens, we are going to stick together."

V smiled and nodded, feeling a little more relaxed and a little more optimistic.

 _5 months ago…_

 _V's feet dragged along the jagged concrete as another cold wind hit her skin with an icy blast. She shivered violently and hugged herself tight, trying to bring her black hooded jacket closer to her. She was tired, she hadn't eaten in days, and she was alone._

"Well, I did always want alone time," _she muttered to herself through chattering teeth._

 _Weeks of wandering had left her weary and as she clutched her pistol close to her chest, she wondered if perhaps it would be worth it turn back? She had yet to encounter a single friendly face along the way, and the few faces she had seen had depleted her ammunition in order to save her own skin. Between the Raider camps, the Super Mutant run ins, and the mutated, violent wildlife in the wasteland, she had only the bullets left in the guns chamber._

 _The fighting, the walking, the scrounging for food, and the long and relatively sleepless nights – all of that left her tired, weak and barely able to keep one foot in front of the other. Looking down now at the barrel of her gun, she began to wonder just how invulnerable she really was. How easy it would be to put that barrel to her head and pull the trigger… to finally rest after so many decades…_

 _An upturned concrete slab caught her foot and sent V flying forward, making her lose her train of morbid thought. She fell on her chest and face, her flesh scraping against the ground and her tattered jeans tearing even further. Her ankle throbbed, and she was sure it was sprained as she just laid there, her bleeding cheek resting on the concrete. Her gun had fallen out of her hand and she simply stared at it, the barrel pointing towards her face as if mocking her. V couldn't even laugh at the irony as she stared off into space, wondering how long it would take to starve to death._

"Get your hands off of me!"

"Dad!"

"Stay there, Rob! Don't fight them!"

 _Voices carrying on the wind made V lift her head slightly. Of in the distance, she could see multiple lights and a small house. She heard the hard_ _ **thumping!**_ _of flesh on flesh and crying. Slowly, she placed her hands on the concrete and forced herself up, grabbing her gun as she stumbled on, making her way towards the noises. The wind picked up again and V had to clutch herself again for warmth as she got closer to the house._

"Now, now, old timer, come on. It's a simple request, really. We're just asking for hospitality. The winter months are starting to get fucking cold, and we don't have anywhere else to stay."

"So you mooch off of the defenseless and hardworking?!"

"Evan! Shut up!"

 _V ducked behind a metal guard rail and peeked over to observe what was going on. She counted seven raiders, their spiked armor and dirty leathers giving them away. One with a shaved head stood furthest away from the house, his shotgun barrel resting on a man's head while he knelt in the dirt. By the house entrance, two men and two women were on their knees, as well, guns on the backs of their heads. The younger woman was sobbing uncontrollably while an older male with dreadlock hair was yelling at the raiders._

"Get your hands off of him, mother fucker!"

"Daddy! Oh God, Daddy!"

 _The lead raider motioned to his team, another six raiders who were well armed._

"Shut them up! Fuck, I'm getting a headache from all this screaming and crying!"

"Seven raiders," _V mumbled. She noticed the crops to the side of the house closest to her and decided to creep slowly towards the scene. The rows of mutfruit shrubs would provide more than enough cover, and they were dense enough to drag a raider or two into the bushes, if she could do it quietly. From there, she would have to improvise. She crouched down low and made a wide berth into the crops, pulling one of her combat knives from her ankle boot. The ground was still soft, despite the dropping temperature, and it allowed V to be silent as she moved between the shrubs, closing in on her first target._

"Please," _she heard the older man beg._ "Please, just take what you want. Take it all, but please, please don't hurt my children."

"Oh, we're going to take what we want, old man, trust me. After we kill you, we're going to move in, eat your food, sleep in your bed, rape your girls and slit your son's throats." _The raider sneered._ "In fact…" _He whistled to his accomplices._ "Hey! Get those girls on their hands and knees! Let's give this guy a show to remember before I blow his fucking head off."

"Daddy!"

"No! NO PLEASE!"

 _Amongst the screaming an commotion, V found it easy to creep up behind the one lone raider and shove her combat knife deep into the side of his neck, covering his mouth and pulling him into the bushes as quietly as she could. Blood seeped down his neck and onto her arms as he bled out._

"Six…"

 _V quickly pulled the blade out and made her way to the bound men and their captors. With both blades now in hand, she snuck up right behind them and drove the blades into their backs, wrenching the handles so the blades could do all the damage necessary to do them in._

"Four…"

"DADDY! PLEASE HELP US!"

"What the fuck!?"

 _V quickly cut the ropes binding two of the men and stood. The lead raider stopped his advances on the two women, taking his hand out of the blond one's shirt. He grabbed his gun and the remaining three raiders followed suit, all guns pointing at the white-haired woman in black._

 _From that point on, V was on auto-pilot, her rage getting the best of her actions. She had decades of training and programming instilled into her to ensure fights like these always turned in her favor. The raiders tried to fire on her, but she was too fast and dove into the house through the front window for cover. She withdrew a syringe full of PsychoJet, a dangerous chem that pumped up your adrenaline, and injected it into her arm. She felt the effects immediately. The Psycho got the adrenaline pumping so fast she nearly shook, while the Jet levelled her off and gave her the foggy focus she would require. Clenching her jaw, she leapt from her cover and dove a good ten meters across the field, tackling a raider. She put the gun to his head and fired without hesitation._

"Three…"

 _Her whole body felt as if it was vibrating, and she could hear the slow and slurred voice of the leader._

"Oh shit!"

 _Two other came up behind her. She drove her elbow into one's gut and pulled him to her, using him as a human shield as the other fired away into his body, protecting V. She raised her pistol and fired off two shots, one to the chest, and one to the skull. Then, she fired another shot into her shield's head and dropped him._

"One…"

 _She smiled sadistically at the last raider, the leader. He was clearly stunned by what he had just seen – his entire team demolished in a matter of seconds. He tried to raise his shotgun to fight back, but V was too quick. Three more bullets fired, and he fell to the ground with a loud, lifeless_ _ **THUMP!**_

 _V stood there, her arm shaking as she dropped it to her side, still clutching her pistol. She was panting heavily, a side effect of the PsychoJet still running through her veins. Around her, she could swear she heard shouting and crying and panicked voices, but they seemed so distant. She slowly sank to her knees as the chem began to wear off, her weariness taking over with full force. Everything felt heavy, cold, and meaningless; the world around her just didn't matter anymore._

 _The world began to darken, and V welcomed it with a sigh of relief._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

For all the time that had passed, and for all the land that it had gained, Goodneighbour was still the same old place. The neon sign still buzzed on the outer wall, flickering slightly as its colors swirled inside the tubing; the walls were still fortified with scraps of wood and metal found about the Commonwealth, though the turrets were a new addition. It was all a vision put together by John Hancock as a place that outcasts, vagabonds, even criminals could call home - a safe haven of sorts. It was a place where booze and drugs were plentiful, and the law was always taken into your own hands, unless the mayor had something to say about it.

As Nick and Nora entered the large wooden doors, Nora became slightly overwhelmed by memories of a time long ago. Goodneighbour started where it always had, with the State House close to the town's entrance, however, the limits had been pushed back much further beyond the Memory Den and the Rexford Hotel. The town was more populated, the streets had more vendors now and there were even more residential areas for people to make actual homes.

As Nora walked past the entrance to Goodneighbour, she remembered the first time ever passing the gates with her old dog, both of them bloodied and battered from their travels. She remembered Finn, the resident who had tried to extort her for caps right off the bat, and her, being new to the Commonwealth, being hesitant and confused by the encounter.

Then in walked John motherfucking Hancock.

Nora remembered they had exchanged words, damned if she could remember them now; but after all had seemed reconciled, Hancock had knifed the man to death and left him to bleed out on the pavement. She remembered that she had never felt more nervous in her life. Hancock left the man for dead, and began a casual conversation with her, as if he had just taken out the garbage and saw her at the end of the street. He had been polite enough, explaining how things worked in his town. That was when Nora had really learned how justice was dealt out in this wasteland, and Hancock had made sure that she knew it.

" _Goodneighbour is of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone is welcome. As long as you remember who's in charge."_

And she _had_ been welcome; eventually she was welcomed in more ways than one with that ghoulified man. However, something was telling Nora that she wouldn't be as welcome anymore. Even wearing her old jeans and plaid button up shirt to blend in, she still felt out of place. She felt self-conscious, as if everyone knew who she was and was judging her from a distance as they walked by. Of course, that was ridiculous, she told herself. Still, some people's gazes seemed to linger a little too long on her.

They approached the State House and Nick could tell Nora was nervous. He stopped in front of the old wooden double doors and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You want to wait out here, Nora? I get it if you need a minute."

Nora swallowed, her mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry. She nodded at Nick and he entered the State House without another word. She leaned against the building and sighed, her body feeling very heavy.

"Holy shit! Nora? Is that you?"

Nora snapped her focus to the woman with the severely irradiated face, her flesh scarred and mangled, the muscles partially exposed and somewhat dried out. The cartilage of her nose and ears were missing, leaving only small holes where her eardrums and nasal canals would be. Her eyes were black, like all ghouls were, no iris was left, and the whites surrounding it were gone. Only black, onyx orbs remained, shining brightly in the midday sun. She had no hair – as ghouls couldn't grow hair – so a brown wig was on her head, the hair falling to her shoulders in a straight style, framing her gaunt face. Accompanied by her professional grey business suit, Nora thought the ghoul looked… nice.

"Daisy?" Nora asked, a small smile creeping over her face.

The ghoul smiled back. "In the sort-of flesh, darling. I can't believe it's really you! God, how long has it been?"

"Thirty years," Nora sighed, removing herself from the State House wall and giving Daisy a hug.

"No kidding!" Daisy held her back at arm's length, her eyes taking Nora in. "That explains the hair, then. And the wrinkles, too; but what is up with those clothes? Rumor has it that you're the Director of the Institute?"

"Well, it's not really a rumor," Nora said. "Though, I expect John wanted to keep that information as 'need-to-know' as possible."

Daisy's smile turned from something happy and bright, to sad and dull. "He's never been the same, you know? Ever since you left, he's been hurting. Even after all this time."

They grew silent for a moment. Nora shuffled her feet, kicking up dust and small rocks. After a beat, she spoke.

"I tried, Daisy. Really, I did. I wanted him to be a part of it all; a part of me. His hatred for the Institute… it just ran too deep – still does, I assume. You have to understand, all I ever wanted was to make this world a better place. I wanted to help people, and I still do. I just wish he could have seen the same vision I saw," Nora took a shaky breath. "All I did, I did with him in mind. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him."

Daisy saw the sincerity in Nora's eyes. She nodded to the State House. "Well, if you're here to reconcile, he won't be there. It's still daylight out, and unless he has business to attend to, he refuses to stay there too long."

Nora frowned. "Why?"

"Things have changed, Nora, and he doesn't like it. Magnolia is gone, Fahrenheit is gone, _and you're_ gone. Hancock is finding this reality hard to adjust to. So he tries to stay out of it as much as he can. These past years have been very hard for him."

The door to the State House creaked open and Nick sauntered out. "He's not there."

Daisy shrugged. "See?"

"Nice to see you again, Daisy. Been too long," Nick tipped his battered fedora to the lady and smiled.

"Same to you, Nick. I was just telling Nora how the mayor doesn't care to spend his waking hours in this house. He's out."

"Well, where is he then?" Nora sighed.

"Look, Nora, if you're here to make amends-"

"I'm not here for personal reasons, Daisy. Please, it's important that I see him."

"Three options," Daisy said, holding up her fingers. "He's become fond of the Memory Den in the last few years; he's also becoming a frequent customer of our… um… new bar called 'Smoothskin'. Or, you can try the Third Rail; he usually ends his days there."

Nora nodded. "Thanks, Daisy. I'll be sure to come by and see you soon. I miss our talks."

Daisy smile and made her way back to her shop, looking back once as if to validate that Nora was real. Nick kept his eyes on Daisy as she walked away and he lit a cigarette.

"You okay to do this, Nora?"

She nodded. "Let's try the Third Rail first. I'm sure we'll find him in the same place, doing the same thing he always did."

Nick agreed, and they walked in silence to the underground bar. Nick wanted to ask what Nora and Daisy had talked about; he could see the slight redness in Nora's eyes when he came out from the State House. However, he decided to leave it alone. Nora would tell him when she was ready. He could tell by the stiff walk and slight pallor that she was nervous, and he didn't want to add to her stress by pressing the issues.

They descended the concrete stairs to the old subway station. It was nice to see that not much had changed here, either. Sure, there was less rubble and trash, and the music echoing up was not the same; but Hamm, the bouncer was still at his post at the top of the final stairway, still in his suit, and still as grim looking as ever. Nick walked up casually, hands in his pockets and he nodded at Hamm.

Hamm didn't reply at first. He kept his black eyes on Nora, his gaze hard, studying her face and making her shift uncomfortably.

"Problem, Hamm?" Nick asked.

"She's not permitted here."

Nora wasn't surprised. Although so much time had passed since she'd last seen John, over thirty one years, to be exact. She knew he must still be sour. From what Daisy had told her, she almost had expected Hamm to open fire where she stood. She shrugged at Nick.

"Guess you go on alone from here."

The synth shook his head "Don't worry, Nora. I'll knock some sense into his thick skull."

Nora sat down heavily on the subway bench laughing.

"You might need to knock some of the chems out, first."

Nick smirked, then turned and walked down the stairs. Nora watched him go until he disappeared from her sight. Then, she sighed and leaned against the concrete wall, waiting for her opportunity.

* * *

Music always sounded fuzzy to John in this state. He had just finished his custom cocktail of UltraJet and Day Tripper, and the effects were making his ghoul brain swim in a way that made him smile. He could faintly feel a hand stroking his chest and lips nuzzling at his neck as he took a long drag of his cigarette. In his drug-induced state, he found it hard to focus, which was just perfect for him. Being numb had been the only thing getting him through for the last number of years…

' _You mean the last thirty years, right John?'_

He laughed at that thought, causing his random guests to turn his way. Hancock just waved them off, and they resumed their random acts of chems, drinking and sex that usually occurred in the back room of the Third Rail among the heavy smoke that lingered in the air.

The woman hanging onto John whispered in his ruined ear, "Let's get out of here, baby," and John grinned back at her. He reached between her legs and was pleased at her reaction as she spread her legs even more for him. He took another drag on his cigarette and began to rise from the couch.

For a moment, the music in the main room got louder, drawing Hancock's attention to the door. He recognized the man standing in the entrance and he quickly forgot about his previous activity. He threw his arms up in a welcoming gesture, a huge, dopey grin on his face.

"Nick Valentine! A sight for sore eyes! How the hell are ya?!"

Nick noticed the sway in John's walk; could practically smell the drugs mixed with alcohol on his breath as John sauntered clumsily over to Nick and clapped him on the shoulder. The ghoul's tricorn hat was askew on his bald, scarred head, and his red coat had been discarded; his yellowed frilled shirt hanging open on his slender frame. Nick patted John's back in return and smiled.

"John," he said. "It's good to see you again." He scanned the room with his synthetic yellow eyes, noting the piles of chems in the center of the table. All around were roughly a dozen people. Some were laughing, some were drinking, and others were partaking in the free chems offered to them. Some were passed out in chairs or on the floor, and Nick scanned their vitals to ensure they were still alive. One couple occupied a chair in the corner and were… engaged in strenuous exercise and no one seemed to mind or really notice.

Nick nodded at Hancock. "You good?"

Hancock, still with that stupid grin on his face, just laughed. "Always, Nicky boy! Now, come and sit down. We have a _lot_ of catching up to do!"

John led Nick to the couch he had been sitting on, placing himself back next to the woman he was previously sitting with. Nick noticed the drugged, sexual hunger in her eyes as she stared at John and he just shook his head. He pulled his cigarettes from his coat pocket and lit up, tipping the pack past John and towards the woman.

"Ma'am?" he offered.

She shook her head and reached for the cigarette dangling from John's mouth. "We like to share," she said and took a drag, blowing it into John's mouth in a kiss. John just kept on smiling his dumb smile, obviously out of his right mind. He looked lazily over to Nick and shrugged.

"So, what's new?" he asked.

Nick sighed. He decided he'd need to spend some time buttering John up before asking for any favors. With Nora here, he'd have to up his friend game and really suck up to Goodneighbor's mayor. So, he leaned back, took the beer offered to him, and began to shoot the proverbial shit.

* * *

Nora couldn't stop her leg from bouncing. A nervous habit she'd never been able to kick. Nick had been down in the bar for nearly an hour, and she was getting restless. She looked up at Hamm and sighed. He hadn't left his post since she had arrived – not even to use the facilities – and the sneer he was giving her was really starting to wear on her patience. She checked her PipBoy again and sighed. If she wanted to leave for the Cabot house the next day before travelling to New York, they'd have to leave soon.

Finally, she got up and smoothed her white hair and wrinkled shirt. She crossed the old station entryway and slowly approached Hamm.

"So, still in the same job, after all these years, hey Hamm?"

He didn't answer.

Nora sighed. "Don't you sometimes wish for more, Hamm? I mean, bouncing is great and all, but don't you want something else? Something more?"

"Mayor is giving me more," he replied.

"Is that so?"

"Fahrenheit's gone. Retired. Boss needs a new bodyguard. That's going to be me."

Nora was standing less than an arm's length from Hamm. She kept her hands in her jean's pockets and nodded. "Yeah, I guess the battle get more dangerous the older we get."

Hamm wheezed out a laugh. "Speak for yourself, smoothskin."

"Well," Nora sighed, ignoring his comment. "I'm sorry to say, but I doubt you'll be seeing that promotion anytime soon, Hamm."

He glared at her. "Yeah? And why's that?"

Hamm suddenly stiffened while Nora wrapped her arms around his frame. As he closed his eyes, his muscles relaxed and Nora had to help him to the floor, breaking his fall. She pulled the syringe out of his side and shook her head.

"Because," she said as she pocketed the needle. "Hancock is going to be so pissed that you couldn't keep me out."

With that, she made her way down the stair to the bar, heart racing.

* * *

John was laughing. He and Nick had been reminiscing over the old days, and one story had sent him into minor hysterics. He had to admit, his good mood was genuine and he almost felt lighter because of it. It felt good to talk about old times; even if there was someone in particular he didn't care to remember.

"So, John," Nick leaned over, putting out his cigarette butt, and resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm here to talk about more than just the past. There's something pressing that we need to discuss."

John rolled his eyes and leaned his head back, cigarette smoke spilling in thick plumes from his lips. "Of course there is, Nicky boy. There's always more to discuss." He leaned forward, crushing out his smoke and stared at Nick. "It's got something to do with _her_ , doesn't it? Fucking Nora, off to save the world again, eh?"

"I guess you could say that."

The response came so quickly, that Nick and John nearly missed the door to the dark room open and close.

John felt his temper flare up instantly. He glared at Nick and stood up quickly. In an instant, his gun was out, cocked and aimed at the old woman's head. John's dark eyes grew fierce and he sneered.

"Oh no, not you," John growled. " _You_ can get the _fuck_ out right now! You hear me, Nora? Or I'll be putting you down for good this time!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

" _John... oh fuck, John!"_

 _Hancock grinned as Nora's fingers dug into his shoulder blades. He leaned in and tasted the sweat on her neck, relishing the feel of her heat all around him._

" _That's it Nora," he panted. "Come on, love; let go for me."_

 _That was always her undoing, he found. She was a woman of power in the Commonwealth, and being told what to do behind their closed doors always sent her over the edge._

 _Her sweet cry ringing in his ear as she came around him sent him over the edge. Hancock groaned as he finished with her, his muscles tensing. His hips jerked sporadically as rode out his orgasm, burying his face in Nora's neck as he did so. He came up for air after a moment, feeling completely drained and boneless as he looked down at this amazing woman whom he loved so damn much. Her red hair was strewn over the pillow, sweat rolling off of her forehead, and her cheeks had a healthy, pink glow to them. He smiled and leaned in to give her a long, passionate kiss before finally rolling off to her one side._

 _Nora swiped her matted, red hair off of her forehead and laughed breathlessly. "Really, John? Twice wasn't enough?"_

 _He grinned back. "It's never enough, love, trust me." He rolled to the bedside table and produced two cigarettes. Nora took one, smiling as he lit it for her. After a long inhale, she leaned back and let the smoke escape her nostrils. John followed suit with his own cigarette, but positioned himself so that Nora could rest her head on his chest._

 _For a few moments, they were silent. They always were after sex. It was nice to bask in the afterglow of their actions, peaceful even. He never really liked to talk much afterwards, instead giving way to cigarettes, chems, or booze while they relaxed together; however, this particular session had been fueled by angry words and hurt feelings, and he wasn't sure he wanted to leave it alone._

" _So, you leave tomorrow?"_

 _Nora nodded, quiet, but for the sounds of her beautiful breath._

" _Do you really think you'll find your son there? Kellog could be putting you through a ruse just to piss you off and break your heart further."_

 _Nora took another drag of her cigarette, allowing herself a moment to remain calm. "If there is even the slightest chance, John, I have to take it. I know how you feel about the Institute – and trust me, I wouldn't be going if I didn't have to – but to find Shaun, I'd go to the bottom layers of hell and back." She shifted and gave him a soft kiss. "Just like I'd do for you."_

 _Hancock smiled and drew her closer to him, both completely happy now in the moment._

" _I'll be waiting for you here," he said, stroking her hair gently. "So you'd better be careful, and you'd better come back quick. I'd hate to have to send a Wasteland army to the heart of hell for you, but I'll do it."_

 _Nora chuckled. "Now, now, no need to initiate the next world war just for little old me."_

 _John sat up and moved so he was sitting in front of Nora on the bed, both hands on her shoulders. Even in the dim light of their home in Sanctuary, he could see her bright, large eyes clearly. Her lips were still puffy from their rigorous sex and kissing, and her skin glowed with that lingering light sheen of sweat on her body. She was an angelic savior to the Commonwealth, and it made his heart nearly explode with pride and love for her._

 _Hancock held her smooth face in his hands and kissed her again. Looking intensely into her eyes, he said, "You would be worth every bullet fired, every explosion, every stab. You are everything to the people, here; but most of all, you're everything to me. I'd do anything to keep you safe and happy…"_

The party around them stopped instantly, and now all eyes were locked on either the old woman in the doorway, or the mayor of Goodneighbor. Nick began to rise, his hand on the butt of his gun, but Nora gave a slight shake of her head and he sat down again.

"John, put the gun down," Nora chided, taking a slow step forward. She noticed the slight sway in his stance and how his arm couldn't quite stay still and she shook her head. It took a lot of chems to get a ghoul this high, and clearly Hancock had been enjoying his fair share.

John just growled his anger and cocked his pistol. "I told you, Nora, I fucking _told you_ to never show your face around here again. Where the fuck is Hamm? Why'd he let you in, huh?"

Nora slowly pulled a syringe from her pocket, not wanting to keep anything from Hancock, lest the entire town of Goodneighbor kill her and Nick at his order.

"A mild sedative, that's all," she explained. "He's sleeping it off. John, let's not turn this into a big deal, okay?"

Hancock frowned, his gun still aimed and ready. "Well, at least now I know where to find him so I can take a finger."

"John…" Nick warned.

Another gun was suddenly in John's free hand and pointing at Nick's face. Nora had to momentarily admire his swiftness, even in his chem induced stupor.

"Yeah, you know what, Nick? You can get the fuck out, too. I'm sick of her sending her fucking lapdogs to try and charm a deal outta me. So get your metal ass off of my couch, and leave, before I kill you both."

Nick rose and drew his gun just as quickly, locking it on the ghoul. The onlookers in the room suddenly had no interest in sticking around, so they scrambled past an unmoving Nora to escape before a gun fight broke out. The doors opened again and five gunmen entered, their guns pointed at Nora and Nick. Nora rolled her eyes and huffed. Things were getting out of hand in a very bad way.

"Put your guns down, now!" one guard commanded.

"Oh, come on John, seriously?!" Nora jeered as she placed the syringe on the floor. "Look, Nick, put your gun down. John, stop being a drugged idiot and put _your_ gun down, and gentleman," she turned to the masked guards calmly, hands on her hips. "I have a small force of thirty battle-ready synths led by three Coursers who are just waiting for me to press my distress signal. So, I suggest we all cool our jets and have a nice, civil conversation like a bunch of goddamn adults! Agreed?"

Nick slowly dropped his gun without a word, motioning for Hancock to do the same. The ghoul reluctantly obliged and waved off his guards. They nodded and left the room, making the space feel very big and very empty. Nora sighed and pulled up a chair closer to the couch Nick and Hancock were now sitting back down on.

John grumbled something under his breath and poured himself a drink. "Still using the same old Institute bully techniques, I see."

Nora scoffed and shook her head. "If that's what you want to call it, after you drew your guns on Nick and me first, by all means."

"After you deliberately piss me off and come around here? What the fuck did you expect, Nora?"

"Trust me," she countered hotly. This is the last place I'd ever want to be, John. I have exhausted quite literally every other option before coming here."

Hancock laughed as he took a drink of bourbon. "You _must_ be desperate, then."

Nora's eyes grew cold. "For the second time, it seems."

She instantly regretted what she said. It was uncalled for and totally untrue; but she was pissed off. The clock was ticking, and trying to talk down a riled up John Hancock was always exhausting, and took a lot of time that she simply did not have. Her eyes met his for a moment and it was as if both could feel each other's hurt and anger. Nora had to finally look elsewhere, clearing her throat as she did.

"What do you want, Nora?" John finally asked, his tone angry, but tired. He downed his drink with another gulp and tossed the glass to the ground. He leaned over and lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply.

Nora eyes his scarred lips and fingers, and suddenly she was thirty years in the past. She could still remember the feel of his skin on hers, his lips and teeth on her neck and body. She remembered their night before she first entered the Institute all those years ago. Her heart lurched and she had to look away, coughing to mask the tears that tried to well up.

' _I'd do anything to make you safe and happy…'_

Nick noticed the tears in Nora's eyes, even if Hancock didn't – or refused to – and he cleared his throat. "Nora's Coursers have made a scary discovery, John. It involves a synth; a powerful synth. Something we've never seen before." He pulled another smoke from his trench coat pocket and lit it, mimicking Hancock and leaving forward, arms on his knees. He nodded to Nora who was still privately tending to her eyes. "Show him, Nora."

She was rummaging around in her pack before she pulled out a clunky metal briefcase. She dropped it on the table in front of Hancock. The eyed it, puffing on his cigarette.

"So… you're scared of a box?"

Nora sighed and opened the case.

Even Hancock had to admit, he was impressed. Nora opened the case to reveal a small computer. The screen was roughly the same size as the busted computers he'd see around the Commonwealth, but the rest of it was smaller and much more compact. He wasn't one who knew his way around computers, but he had done enough travelling in his time to know computers didn't come small. Nora began typing away at the dark screen, and suddenly a bright white image appeared on the screen. Hancock's eyes widened in surprise.

"Is that...?"

"Yes, it's a live recording, John," Nora dismissed his question quickly as she leaned closer to the monitor. "Now watch, and pay close attention."

Although Nora and Nick had already seen the recording, it was no less gruesome or surprising. Out of the corner of her eye, Nora caught Hancock leaning in closer, the cigarette loosely dangling from his mouth nearly forgotten as the ash fell to the floor. He was mesmerized by the moving, soundless picture in front of him, and Nora couldn't help the small swell of pride she felt in her chest. When she was younger and new to this world of post-nuclear war, anything that she did to amaze that man made her beam. It was nice to know that, even through hurt feelings, tears, and nasty words, Nora was still able to surprise him.

Suddenly, Hancock jumped in his seat, flinging his arms up and nearly kicking over the coffee table.

"What the shit?!" he yelled in shock.

"Oh yeah," Nora chuckled at his reaction and paused the recording. "I should have warned you about that."

"You think?" he accused, slowly settling down back into his seat. He sat in silence for a moment, trying to process what he had just witnessed. Even in the old comic books of pre-war times, never had someone of this caliber ever been imagined. Now, there was a synth out there who could apparently leap tall buildings in a single bound, fall from fantastic heights, and destroy a human without even batting an eye. If technology like this exists now…

"What do you plan on doing with it?" he asked, eyeing Nora carefully.

Nora considered the question. "Well, it looked like that man, Alistair, had a remote in his hand. I have reason to believe that he is controlling this woman. My hope is that she's not in control of her actions, and that she can be rehabilitated." She reached down for an empty, nearly clean glass, and poured herself a drink. After a sip, she looked at Hancock. "I'm going to New York City to try and extract her. We are going to bring her and Alistair back to the Commonwealth…"

Hancock grew apprehensive. She was stalling; the drink proved it. She always got this way when she was about to ask something of him that he wasn't going to like. He took of his tricorn hat and rubbed his forehead, groaning.

"Fuck, Nora, just come out with it."

"I need to keep the synth here, in your holding cells, and your care."

The room fell into a deep, heavy silence for a moment. The music outside was pounding on the door now, and the volume of the crowd had nearly tripled. Nora and Nick stared at Hancock as he stared off into space, seemingly thinking about his answer.

"Heh… heh… ha…" he started a small laugh, his mouth curling upwards into a smile. Then, he flung himself back into the couch, bellowing his laughter and clutching his sides. He stomped on the ground as he tried to collect himself and get some air in his lungs, but his laughter just wouldn't cease. Nora glared at him, her cheeks red with anger.

"What makes… ha!... what makes you think I'd ever… ohmygod!..." he tried to speak between breaths, but his laughter was getting the better of him.

Nora turned her angered stare towards Nick. "I told you this was a waste of time," she sneered and began packing up her computer. Her hands were shaking from the intense anger she was feeling and her heart was pounding in her chest. As he continued to laugh, she was reminded of just how infuriating he could be when he didn't want to hear her out. She knocked back the remainder of her drink and slammed the glass down hard, stood, and began to walk to the door.

A rime, robotic hand grasped her shoulder, and Nora paused, trying to drown out the ghoul's laughter behind her.

"Nora…"

"No, Nick. No," she shrugged off his thin, metallic fingers and glared towards the door. "This was a waste of our goddamn time. We'll just… we'll figure something else out-"

But Nick shook his head. "We don't have time. You know that," he implored. "This Alistair guy could be real bad news not just for the Commonwealth, but for the country – hell, maybe even the world. We gotta get him, Nora, and we gotta get this woman."

Nora thrust out her hands towards the ghoul on the couch. His laughter had calmed, and now he was chuckling and dosing himself with a healthy amount of Med-X. She raised her eyebrows, as if to emphasize her point. "Well?!"

He had to agree that Nora was right. Hancock was not going to make this negotiation easy. Slowly, Nick finished the last of his cigarette and crushed it on the floor. He looked back at Nora and drew her closer to him, his hand on the small of her back. He could practically feel Hancock's eyes burning holes into the back of his trench coat as he brought his lips dangerously close to Nora's ear.

"Go to the bar," he said in a low voice. "Get a glass of wine. He still keeps your favorite stocked with Charlie. Let me talk to John. I think I can make him see reason, but you have to give me a little time."

Nora didn't look convinced, but she nodded and walked through the door that Nick opened for her. She turned back to Nick. "One hour," she warned. "One hour and we're leaving, with or without his help."

Nick nodded and closed the door after her. With a heavy sigh to steel his nerves, he turned to the drugged out mayor, hands in his trench coat pockets, and shook his head.

"John-"

"Fuck you, Nick," Hancock cut him off, laying his lanky, tall body across the couch. "Fuck you for planting this idea in her head."

"Me?"

Hancock frowned. "Ain't no way she'd come here willingly. We said our peace a long time ago, and she knew to stay away. What? Doesn't she have holding cells in her emerald city? What about the Castle? She's still the fucking General of the Minutemen, isn't she?"

Nick crossed the room and sat on the table in front of John. "It's… complicated," he admitted.

"Then uncomplicated it, Nicky-boy, before you bring my high to an all-time low."

Nick exhaled slowly. He'd have to be careful with any information he gave Hancock. The man was a mess, but he was still dangerous, and he still had a lot of power. Men who were dangerous _and_ had power could do rash things with valuable information, things that are in most cases, extremely regrettable. So, Nick took a moment to collect his thoughts before opening his mouth.

"Preston is dead, John."

"Figured as much," Hancock replied nonchalantly. "He hasn't come around for supplies in months. Figured he was dead, or forbidden by Nora to come here." He pulled out a small combat knife from his pocket and began to twirl it about in his hands. "You gonna tell me what happened?"

Another pause before Nick spoke. "There are radicals out there, John. They're calling themselves 'The Revival". We think they are next generation Railroad survivors. Anyone having anything to do with the Minute Men or the Institute have suffered…"

"Thanks to Nora."

"Thanks to no one," Nick shot back hotly. He took a breath to calm himself and continued. "Their methods are…. extreme. So far, they haven't made any demands – we assume they are trying to 'free synths' still, even though we are free. However, numerous kidnappings have happened around the Commonwealth. They take Institute scientists or Minute Men soldiers and do away with them in an overly gruesome way."

Hancock narrowed his eyes. "What happened to Preston, Nick?"

Nick paused again, gathering his nerves. "It was a few months ago," he said, "a regular day. Nora received an unmarked package. So, Nora, being Nora, opened it in a confined explosives unit so as not to harm anyone, in case the package was dangerous. When she opened it, John…" Nick trailed off, his voice cracking as he tried to contain his emotion. He swallowed hard and found his voice again. "Shit, Preston's… _head_ was in the box. Just a head, John, with a note stating their group name and that they had eyes everywhere. There was no ransom, no list of demands, just… just his head."

"Shit." Hancock sat up again and leaned towards Nick, patting his back. "I'm sorry, Nick. Preston was a good man to the very end. No one should have to go like that." He frowned. "How come I've never heard of these assholes?"

"They're pretty new," Nick answered. "Only the last few months have things been getting intense with that group. Nora is trying to keep it as quiet as possible; she doesn't want to start a mass panic. Now, the Minute Men have distanced themselves from Nora, thinking her to be the catalyst of this aggression. She travels to the Castle from time to time; but only for updates on settlement security and the upkeep of new synth patrollers.

"They're angry, and they blame her for what happened to Preston. They want her to actively pursue these radicals and wipe 'em out."

"So, why doesn't she?" Hancock asked, spite laced in his words.

Nick shook his head, angry at the ghoul, angry at The Revival, hell, angry at the whole world. "You're a politician," he began. "You know you can't go half-cocked into a battle before learning all the pieces to the puzzle. Plus, she hasn't gathered enough information to even begin looking. She's just one fucking woman, John."

"So, what about the Institute?"

"There's still too much distrust and tension," Nick explained. "Her appointment to Head Director made a lot of people there unhappy, John; not just you. Before, the Institute was secluded, operating in the shadows and scaring everyone with their mystery presence. That was how the Institute liked it, how her son liked it. Now, they are exposed, their experiments are closely examined and brought before a new board of ethics if any moral issues are brought forward. Synths have their freedom, and the robotics department has made a new version of Mr. Handy helper bots to replace the synths that were forced to work. Synths have their freedom, no one is being stolen from the Commonwealth – at least by the Institute – and now anyone can come and go as they please. She's changing things there for the better, to work alongside the Commonwealth and its people; but you know how people are, John. Change is difficult, to say the least. She's finding a lot of resistance, and most of it is within the walls of the Institute."

"Is it bad?" Hancock asked, genuinely concerned.

Nick nodded. "We're in a tough position here. Nora is quickly running out of people she can turn to. But she cannot risk this technology and research falling into the wrong hands."

"And how does she expect to keep that crazy scientist quiet about his synth? If she's holding _him_ at the Institute, who's to say he won't be released when she's not around, huh?" Hancock asked, pouring another drink for himself and Nick.

Nick took a drink and thanked Hancock. "She doesn't have the time to consider everything that can go wrong. This technology is too dangerous, and we need to extract it as quickly and quietly as possible."

Hancock shrugged. "I don't see what the big deal is, Nick. She's a synth, ain't she? Just hack your way in and shut her down."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

Nick took another drink. He wasn't sure what he should and shouldn't be sharing about this stranger. He didn't want to piss off Nora any further, but it certainly wasn't fair to leave Hancock in the dark. Thought he had become more jaded, more lost and out of control, John Hancock was still John Hancock. He was 'Of the people, for the people', and he made it his business to know what he was going to drag his town into.

"She's human, John." Nick finally said.

Hancock rolled his eyes. "Yeah, lots of synths are, Nick. You were a pre-war cop, right?"

Nick tapped the side of his head. "Memories were encoded to my synthetic brain from that man, yes. This isn't the same though. Her human consciousness was completely _downloaded_. We don't know all the details, but in the biggest way possible, she is human, if what Cabot is saying is true."

Hancock remained silent, his head slightly aching from his come down. Sadly, chems did not have the same intense effect on ghouls as they did on humans and newer synths. There more he took, however, the more the after effects bore on him. He massaged his temples and groaned.

"I'm going to agree to this, aren't I?"

"We wouldn't ask if you weren't the best choice, John," Nick sighed. "Do you think you and Nora can get along long enough to figure this mess out?"

Hancock shrugged and clapped his hands together. "I guess we're going to find out now, aren't we?"

That made Nick smile, his weathered, synthetic skin stretching over his mechanical jaw. "Thanks, John. I knew you'd never let me down. I'd better go tell Nora."

"No, no," Hancock gently pushed Nick back to the couch and pulled himself off of it, throwing on his signature red frock coat and fixing the worn collar. "Let me at least try to smooth things over with her."

"Is that wise, John?"

Hancock grinned and winked at Nick. "I can't have rumors flying around that I'm going soft now, Nicky boy. People have to see us making amends and me _allowing_ her to come and go as she pleases. Politics, you dig?"

Hancock straightened the American flag that he wore around his waist as a belt and buttoned his yellowed poet shirt, the ruffles severely fraying at the hem. He pulled on a few stray threads and tossed them to the ground. Hancock rubbed at his face to try and wake himself up, then he turned to Nick, hands out by his sides.

"So? Presentable?"

Nick grinned. "Just go makes things right."


	5. Chapter 5

Please Note::: This chapter depicts scenes of extreme violence and gore. Please skip this one if you are bothered by such scenes.

Chapter Five

"The cost is twenty caps per room, per night. Maximum is two people per room."

"Come on man, cut us a deal. Who has that many caps on them at one time?" Rob shook his head and frowned back at V and Evan. They had taken nearly ten days to get to Brockton Pass, and the journey had been full of surprises; none of them fun.

Evan cradled his fractured right arm, as if to demonstrate the point.

"Sorry buddy, but that's the price. Pay up, or get out of my lobby."

V rolled her eyes. She casually leaned over the desk of the hotel. "Look, do you have any work we could do? Any help you need around the place? We're all really handy, hard working farm hands. We also are… musically inclined… I guess."

V was only rewarded with a sneer. "I don't need no travelling minstrels here, taking up my rooms, running up bar tabs and eating my food all for a few fucking songs. You don't got the money, you don't get a room. Now, beat it, before we start having a serious problem."

V could feel her face grow hot and her blood boil. She always kept a loose grip on her pistol, but now, her hands tightened around the grip. Her vision blurred slightly, and she swore she could see a tinge of red in her visible surroundings.

"Hey," Even stepped forward and touched her hand lightly, not taking his eyes away from the burly man. "It's okay, we'll leave." He smiled at V and turned her away towards the door, Rob following suit. Evan ushered his angry friend to the door and shouted over his should, "I got the worst radiation sickness from the beef here anyways! Poops for days, people!"

V grinned as she saw a few of the bar patrons cringe slightly.

Amber and Callie were waiting back at the caravan, going through their stock to trade anything useless to them for something more, well, useful. They had been able to down a few straggling raiders and a band of feral ghouls had given them a jump, so scavenging was plentiful, and they had picked over a few guns, ammo, and a lot of little trinkets. Hopefully there was enough for a few caps and a little more ammo. They greeted Rob and the others with tired smiles, until they learned they didn't have a bed to sleep in tonight.

"Seriously?" Callie huffed and ran a hand through her dark, frizzy hair. " _This_ needs a wash! Is there anywhere else we can go? Another settlement? Another hotel?"

Rob shook his head. "Brockton Pass is so small, and they outfitted the old town hall to be big enough to shelter a lot of travelers. There isn't a need for any more lodging for miles." He scanned their caravan. "We can just camp on the outskirts for now and we will look for work in the morning. Obviously we are going to need caps to replenish our supplies if we are going to have any chance of making it to the Commonwealth."

Amber grabbed her stomach as she felt it grumble. "Please tell me we have enough to at least eat a decent meal? One we haven't killed ourselves, for once?"

Rob grinned and wrapped an arm around Amber's small waist. "It was either one night in a bed, or a delicious meal, drinks and chems at the fanciest tent around, m'lady. A place so magical, the beer flows like water – since the water is too irradiated to drink – and the food only leaves you with a gentle, green glow."

Evan looked over at V, his expression apologetic. "The place where I just insulted their food, right?"

"That's the one," she replied.

"Sorry 'bout that."

V just shrugged. "Meh. Hopefully we'll only get week old meat instead of month old mold. If we do, though, you're getting the moldiest."

* * *

"Is all of that _really_ necessary?"

Amber and V were walking together down the dusty street of Brockton Pass, and she couldn't help but comment on the way V decided to outfit herself to go to the bar. Across her back were two curved swords, and a combat knife was sheathed at the small of her back. A 10 mm was strapped to each leg on her outer thigh, and a shotgun was slung over her shoulder. Onlookers and passersby were giving the women nervous glances, and it left Amber feeling a little on edge. They were low on food, money, medical supplies and ammo; resources that could be easily compromised if someone took V's appearance the wrong way.

But V just smiled at Amber's uneasiness and replied, "We're going to the only bar in town, Amber. I assume the place will have mercs there for hire. I want to look like the best option to hire. No one is going to take a mercenary with one concealed pistol seriously, if they want a worthwhile job done."

"Do you think that's they only work we'll get?" Amber asked.

"Maybe not," she replied. "But it's the only work I can do well. I'll leave the rest to you guys." She reached for the double doors opening to the old town hall, and let Amber go in before her. The lighting in the bar had dimmed considerably, and it was hard to see more than ten feet in front of them through the heavy cigarette smoke. Slowly, they made their way to the bar counter and pulled up two tall chairs to sit in. V couldn't help but try to sheepishly hide her face as the bartender glared in her direction. She had no doubt that word had already spread about the brash, white-haired woman and her rag tag band. A part of her felt embarrassed now that her temper had cooled and she could think clearly.

Amber nudged her and smiled. "Let's get a drink, shall we? I'd like one before we head back to the caravan with our order."

Rob had suggested that V and Amber go to the bar alone while they set up camp for the evening. He thought it would be nice for V to get some alone time with Amber, and they could 'talk'. Amber agreed to the suggestion eagerly, always looking forward to learning more about V and her past life, so she wasn't about to just get their food and bail on the opportunity.

"We can take drinks with us, you know," V replied.

The blond ignored her and waved at the bartender. "Two beers, please." She turned back to V and leaned on the bar. "You know, you don't talk too much about your life before. Whenever we ask about the pre-war time, you give kind of flakey responses."

"There's really not much to say," V answered. "What little I do remember, I already shared. I remember that I lived alone, that I was in a band, and that I probably lived in New York. The rest is just kind of… fuzzy."

Their drinks were handed to them, and they each took a huge gulp. It was cold and refreshing. V was surprised. For a small town like this one, she didn't expect such a luxury like an ice box to exist. She had passed through her fair share in the past two years, and never had she come across a cold beer. They ordered all the food and drinks their caps could afford, and sat for a while in silence, listening to the bar get increasingly louder as more patrons came in for the dinner time rush.

Finally, Amber spoke. "You know they don't blame you, right? Rob and the others? This whole thing with Callie is just a phase, and it'll get better. She's just grieving, V, and hurting." Her hand reached out and grabbed hold of V's, giving it a slight squeeze. "What happened on the farm wasn't your fault."

V felt the tears sting in her eyes and she looked away for a moment to gain control of them. "If it wasn't for me…"

"We'd have been dead a year and a half ago because of those raiders," Amber interrupted. "You saved us, V. You saved all of us. If you hadn't stumbled on to the farm and stopped them…" she trailed off, not really wanting to relive that day. It had been traumatizing for all of them. Amber had grown up in the safety of a small settlement thirty miles north of Rob's farm. It had been heavily guarded in the old ruins of a subway tunnel, and she had never in her life even _seen_ a raider before that day. She had been living at the farm for nearly two years when V had come into their lives. Rob had stolen her heart after she had met him during his trading trip to the settlement, and after a few more trips, she had decided to uproot herself and go with him. She was welcomed with open arms and quickly became family, just like V was.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, V turned to Amber and offered a genuine and relaxed smile.

"Thank you."

Amber smiled back. "Don't ever doubt your place in our lives, V. It's like Robert always said, 'You're a part of our family now, and family always sticks together'."

Their food was suddenly dropped on the bar in front of them and the bartender did not offer to replace the women's empty beer bottles. He huffed and quickly walked away from them without a word.

Amber sighed. "You ready to head out?"

V shook her head. "You go ahead. I'm not really that hungry right now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I think I just need a little alone time."

Amber eyed her skeptically. When she turned her gaze to the patrons around them, she grew even more nervous. V just laughed at her reaction, shaking her head.

"I'll be okay. It's like I said, we need work. You know me, Amber, and you know what I can do. Do you really think I'll be in any danger here?"

That made Amber relax a little. "I suppose not." She grabbed hold of the bags of food and stood. "Just… don't stay too long, okay?"

V mimicked the cross over her heart and grinned. Amber seemed satisfied with her response and left, leaving V alone with her thoughts.

Reaching into her back pocket, V pulled out her small stash of personal caps. She waved her empty bottle at the bartender and laid eight caps onto the counter. He understood and grabbed her another beer with a scowl, quickly dropping it off to her and turning around to make himself busy.

That was okay for V. She preferred to be alone when she wasn't around her group. Strangers tend to ask questions – too many questions for her liking. Getting too personal wasn't really her style when she could barely remember her past and was trying to keep a low profile, and it was always awkward trying to talk her way out of those situations to satisfy people's curiosity. V kept to herself, mostly, and that's how she liked it.

As she sat and began to dwell over the past few months, V couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. She glanced around with her peripherals, trying to get a glimpse of anyone who could be eyeing her. Everyone seemed pretty occupied with their own conversations, food and drinks; no one was really paying attention to the lone merc at the bar.

That was when she noticed a lone figure in the far corner, sitting casually in his chair. He wore a cowboy hat and a long duster coat the color of deep tan. He had a scruffy beard and a weathered face with a scar running along his jawline. V enhanced her vision to get a closer look at him and noticed the shotgun sitting across his lap as he watched her intently.

"Let me buy you another drink, beautiful."

Her attention was suddenly pulled away from the stranger as a breathy voice slurred slightly in her ear. V's nose was suddenly filled with the smell of whiskey and it made her cringe; that smell was all too familiar to her, and it brought back unpleasant memories of a certain Vault, and a certain man who she wanted to forget.

"I'm good," was all she replied, not bothering to look in the voice's direction.

"Come on, baby, let me buy you a drink. You look tense. Unwind with me."

A hand reached for her shoulder, but V caught it roughly and turned her vibrant blue eyes to him.

The guy was tall, muscular, scars up his arms and a nasty one across his face. He was decked out in heavy metal armor strapped over his clothing; the shoulder armor had spikes coming out of them. A combat rifle hung over his shoulder and a pistol was strapped to his leg. V glared up at him, pissed that her evening of solitude was about to be ruined.

"Don't you fucking touch me," she snarled, her vision beginning to turn red from anger.

Suddenly, five more men similar in size and looks surrounded her. They snickered, obviously this big guy's cohorts, and he was expecting to get what he came for. V hesitated for a moment, assessing the situation and planning out her attack. She calculated her odds of success, noting how well armed these men were, and she smiled inwardly. Between the six of them, they had only nine weapons; two of which were barbed baseball bats. Slowly, she rose as the man whose hand she still held tugged her roughly to him, catching her off guard.

As she fell into him, he grabbed her white hair roughly and whispered, "Tell me, does the carpet match the drapes?"

She pushed at him, but he held strong.

"Let me go, mother fucker," she warned under her breath.

He laughed. "Oh ho boys! She's got a mouth on her! I think we need to show her a much _better_ way to use it!"

V looked around and noticed how no one was getting up to help her and that told her a lot about this group. They were clearly a powerful group, and must be affiliated with something much bigger. Even the bartender wouldn't dare look up from his cleaning of the counter, and the nervous glances exchanged between onlookers gave V a pretty good idea that no one dared to mess with these guys, no matter how horrendous the crime.

' _Not for long…'_ she thought to herself. If she was to do this, she had to do it right. She couldn't do an all-out assault on these guys now; she'd leave the hotel in a worse state of repair than it already was in. Plus, she didn't want to freak out the locals and give them something to gossip about. She'd have to wait until they were out of sight. So, she let him grab her and run his disgusting tongue over her neck.

"Ey! Jake, my man! Room key, please!" he shouted. Then, he leaned into V's ear, his whiskey soaked breath making her gag. "You, me, and my boys are gonna have ourselves a little party." He pulled her hand guns out of their holsters and chucked them to his group, the shotgun, knife and swords followed suit. Keeping his grip tight on her arm, he pushed and pulled her towards the stairs leading up to the rooms.

She allowed herself to be led, feigning a slight resistance.

The room was at the very end of the hall, up the first flight of stairs. The whole walk down, V's body was groped, her black leather coat ripped from her and thrown to the floor. All six men were talking at once, every conversation perverted and made V's skin crawl.

"Here we are sweet heart."

The door opened to a dimly lit, dank room with a rusted bed and filthy mattress in the corner across the room. There was a table with two chairs barely kept together in the corner by the door, along with a shadeless lamp on top, and V was suddenly quite happy that they hadn't had the caps to rent a room for the evening. The rug on the worn wood floor was stained in a dark rust color, and so torn that she wondered what was even the point of keeping the thing in the room. Browned wallpaper was slowly peeling off in flakes, and the room had a sour smell. V wrinkled her nose as she was shoved into the room, falling to the dusty floor.

She kept her cool internally, carefully assessing where each man took his place, drowning out the putrid sights and smells around her. She focused on the red, always on the red. This, after all, was what her brain had been reprogrammed for.

' _Is that really the right word?'_

"Now," the original offender pulled out his concealed pistol and cocked it, approaching V and leaning over her, pressing the barrel firmly against her skull. He began to unbutton and unzip his pants, and V noticed the others following suit. "Suck," he commanded, a satisfied smirk appearing on his scarred face. "And don't try any kind of funny business, or I'll blow your fucking brains all over the wall." He pushed the gun into her head harder. "Get to it, princess. My friends won't be patient for long."

For a brief moment, V smiled as she leaned in. Her attacker smirked back, clearly pleased with the unfolding events. She wet her lips and dove in, wrapping her mouth around him and waiting until his hands relaxed and the pistol drooped.

Then she bit down, _hard._

"FUCK!"

His scream mixed in with the first gun shot. V had ducked before his finger flinched on the trigger and she grabbed his hand, turning the gun and letting another bullet out right between his legs. The bullet tore through and, along with the existing bite, made him relatively sexless in spray of blood. V rose as he fell, clutching the empty, bloody space where his manhood had only recently been, and squeezed down, making him howl more. She spit blood and tissue from her mouth and wiped it with the back of her arm, a twisted smile plastered on her face.

Her attackers hadn't even bothered to tuck themselves away before they were pulling out their guns. But V was fast – inhumanly fast – and she had already started charging into one who held onto one of her swords. Head down, she tackled him to the floor with a scream and pried the sword from his grip, breaking multiple fingers in the process. He screamed, but V was quick to silence it as she whipped her blade across his throat, arterial blood flowing freely from the wound.

' _Four left…'_

A gunshot rang out and V felt a sharp, burning pain erupt in her leg. She clenched her teeth and turned her attention to the man who shot at her, ignoring the pain radiating in her leg. Even in the contained space, V was able to dodge the oncoming bullets with east, keeping up a quick zig zag pattern, and in two strides she was able to run through the shooter with her sword, twisting it in a jagged motion so that enough internal damage was done. He fell to her feet in a bloodied heap, the bright red running into her boots.

"Bitch!"

She was grabbed from behind, arms wrapping around her neck while the other remaining two approached, guns and knives at the ready. They pulled her sword from her grip, both men needing to pry it from her as she struggled. V grunted and quickly threw her head back and made hard contact with her captor's nose. She heard the sickening _crack!_ as cartilage broke and blood spattered into her hair. Instantly, she became dead weight and pulled the man over her shoulders, making him a human shield as bullets tore into his flesh. His corpse fell to the ground as the remaining two men were reloading and V took her chance. She ripped her combat knife from the shield's belt and lunged, grabbing onto on man's shirt and shoving the blade deep into his neck. In the same beat, she took his now loaded gun and shot at the last man, putting three bullets in his head. For a second, both men stared at her in disbelief as blood ran down her bare arm and the gun smoked. The life then drained from their eyes and they fell to the ground.

V stood still for a moment, her body shaking with adrenaline. The red in her vision was still present, and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. The blood just felt so good, the carnage was so right –

"You… bitch…"

A weak voice broke her out of her sick trance. V turned her eyes back to her initial attacker, the one so confident in how his night was going to play out; the one who thought _she_ was the victim in this scenario. He lay on the floor, clutching at his non-existent crotch, blood seeping from between his fingers.

"F-F… fucking bitch…"

V quirked her head sideways, her eyes dead and glossy, and she slowly walked towards the man, crouching to pick up her stolen weapons. She holstered her guns and sheathed her blades before she approached him, crouching over his body.

He was dying; no one could simply walk off that kind of trauma. Maybe, over three hundred years ago, modern medicine may have been able to save him, maybe give him some semblance of a normal life. However, they weren't in the modern world anymore, and out here, there were no laws to protect you.

V sneered, closing in on his face. "Not quite the ending you were hoping for, huh?" She trailed a bloodied finger up and down his thigh. "Thought it would be me in the messy heap on the floor?" She laughed. "You deserve this. Stalking on poor, defenseless women, muscling your way through people to get what you want, _scaring innocent people_? Karma is a _bitch,_ isn't it?"

"F…F…Fu…You…"

"Fuck me?" V laughed. "Impossible when your _dick_ is gone. Seriously, you-"

Her words were cut short as a huge gob of blood and spit hit her in the face, splattering across her cheek. V's eyes widened at his continued defiance. Her anger bubbled again and she looked about the room. Just to the left of her lay the disheveled and bloodied appendage she had nearly bitten clean off, and she grabbed it. Roles reversed, V now put her pistol to his head and shoved the lump of mangled flesh in his face.

"Suck," she ordered.

But he refused to open his mouth.

V growled. "You think you get to exit this life the easy way?! You think I'm just gonna put this bullet in your worthless skull before giving you the humiliation you deserve?! You're a fucking coward! A dog! Now open your goddamn mouth, and take your humiliation like a fucking man! Or I'll start chopping you up bit by bit, and torture you in way that'll make you wish I'd have killed you days ago. Now suck!"

Still, his moth refused to open. V's anger went wild. She screamed and threw the phallus aside. Instead, she squeezed his mouth on the sides until she could pry her fingers inside. If he was going to defy her, he was going to suffer for it.

She struggled against him, trying to get her other hand into his mouth to grip his bottom teeth. Still, he continued fighting, biting as hard as his dwindling strength would allow. V growled again and gave his head a hard thrust into the floorboards with a hard _thunk!_ His jaw immediately loosened and her other hand went it. He glared up at her, even in his disorientation, his resolve hardened, and he decided he would defy her until the end.

That was just fine by her.

Slowly, she applied pressure to his upper and lower jaw, pulling his mouth open. It didn't take long to realize what her plan was, and his eyes widened in a sudden panic. His struggles against her and his grunts of effort turned into desperation as he tried to force himself from under her. His fists pounded on the floor and his legs tried to kick, but she held on. She worked through is protesting head shakes and his distorted cries for help as she kept pulling apart his jaw, the mouth starting to widen unnaturally, his cheeks stretching.

Finally, he was screaming.

V continued, her eyes wild with rage and fascination as his flesh tore apart and bones began to snap. The body below her shook violently, seizing up as she reveled in the horror as his jaw widened further, blood covering the floor –

"V?!"

Instantly, her blood cooled and her vision returned to normal as the sound of Evan' voice brought her back to reality.

"What the fuck happened here?!"

The bartender from the main floor – Jake – and the hotel owner stood at the doorway next to the cowboy hat figure who was sitting in the corner downstairs. All three had their guns aimed and cocked at V, with Evan standing behind them, trying to get by.

"Evan…"

He pushed past the men and rushed to her, slipping over the blood drenched floor, but reaching her nonetheless. He dropped to his knees and grabbed her, drawing her into him with his good arm and hugging her tight. The contact made V shake, her anger turning into pain and fear as she choked back her sobs.

Evan frowned. "V… what happened?"

"They were going to rape her," cowboy hat answered with a stern, but casual tone. "Markman's gang has been terrorizing this town for far too long. It's nice _someone_ is finally taking some action."

The voices in the doorway seemed miles away as Evan held onto V, stroking her gore caked hair and staring around the room is disbelief. "V…" he trailed.

"I'm sorry," V mumbled into his shoulder, gripping him tightly with her blood stained hands. "I lost it, Evan… I just…."

She couldn't finish her words and she buried her head into his shoulder even more, letting out a long, shuddering sigh. Evan rubbed her back and dared to look over her shoulder, down to the man she was attacking when they entered the room. His stomach retched at the scene.

The man was dead. Incredibly dead. He lay sprawled on his back, his body covered in blood. Between his legs was a gaping wound, blood still seeping slightly with tendons and mangled cartilage tangled in the mess. Beside his head lay a chuck of flesh Evan recognized all too well, and he tightened his own legs involuntarily. It was his face, though, that was the most disturbing.

His jaw had been stretched. So much so that his cheeks had split apart into a jagged joker's smile. His eyes were still open, glossy and void of life while a crazed and desperate look was permanently etched on his face, and blood covered most of him. The broken jaw hung open on his skull, his tongue hanging limply to the side, his teeth and throat a little too exposed, making Evan's stomach lurch again. He turned his attention back to V, for both their sake's.

"Get out."

They both looked up to the men standing in the doorway still. The hotel and bar owners were furious, their faces red, their fingers on the triggers of their guns.

Cowboy hat tried to sympathize. "Now, calm down guys –"

Jake, the bartender, interrupted. "You crazy, Roland? You know what Markman's men are capable of! Now, his boys are dead _in our hotel!_ He's gonna come and slit our throats if you're lucky! We're fucking dead!"

Cowboy hat- Roland – sighed, rubbing his forehead. He smiled wanly at Evan. "Where you camped out, kid?"

"Outside the western gate," Evan gulped. "We have people with us."

Roland nodded. "Take her and go. I'll come discuss… this," he motioned around the room. "In a few hours."

Evan nodded. "Let's go," he whispered to V, and gently pulled her to her feet. He walked them carefully past the loaded guns still trained on them, down the hallway and down the stairs. As they walked past the silent onlookers, V could only cringe. Their faces were horrified at the sight of V, and Evan clutched her closer to get her safely through the crowd.

"So much for low profile," she mumbled as they finally exited the double doors.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

" _Well now, if it ain't Bobbi's little patsy. Now, here I thought I sent you to scout out Pickman Gallery; so exactly what part of that sounded like 'Rob my strong room' to you?"_

 _Nora was sitting at the bar at the Third Rail, sipping a glass of red wine and wishing the stale radiation taste would disappear. She had allowed a ghoul named Bobbi to play her a fool. Shortly after taking a job from the mayor of Goodneighbor, she was coaxed into a job to dig into Diamond City's strong room to steal supplies from them for the good of the town. How was she to know that the dig was really to get into Mayor Hancock's strong room and steal his provisions?_

 _Nora sighed. This guy was clearly agitated, and why wouldn't he be? She had gone behind his back, albeit unknowingly, before she could establish herself as anything but a thief. She had told him one thing, and gone and done completely different. However, Nora had been a lawyer in the past, and she knew how to remain calm and collected in stressful situations. She knew that even though she was technically in the wrong of breaking into his stash, her killing Bobbi and walking away would give her at least a bit of an angle to work with. She could only hope the mayor had a reasonable side to him, and that her appeal would be enough to get her out of this situation._

" _Look," she began, putting down her glass. "Bobbi tricked me, and she got what she deserved. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."_

 _Hancock sat there for a few moments, swirling his bourbon in his glass, starting at the brown liquid as it sloshed around the edges. Finally, he grinned. "Yeah, that's usually how it goes around here. No hard feelings." He reached into his worn red coat and dropped a small bag next to her on the bar, the bottle caps jingling inside. "Here, for protecting my stash."_

 _Nora took the bag and nodded her appreciation. They sat in silence for a while; Nora being thankful he hadn't come with his guards to break her legs, and Hancock wondering how to approach his question for her. Something about her nonchalant attitude and almond shaped eyes gave him an odd feeling in his stomach, and made his mouth dry. He quickly downed his drink and waved at Whitechapel the bartender to get him another. Once his cup was secure in his hand, he turned to Nora and smiled._

" _Lemme tell ya," he began. "This classy little tricorner hat of mine is getting heavy." He tugged at his hat and couldn't help but notice her adorable sideways smirk. He pulled out his cigarettes and offered her one, which she took, and he lit it for her and then for himself. After a long drag he sighed, smoke pouring from his mouth. "Am I turning into the man? Some kind of tyrant?"_

 _Nora exhaled and turned to him, locking her green eyes with his. "I'm not sure that I follow."_

 _He leaned over the bar, staring into his own drink again, momentarily lost in thought. After a brief moment, he spoke. "I spend all my time putting down the people I would have been proud to scheme with just a few years ago," he said, taking another drink. "I need to take a walk again; get a grip on what really matters: living free."_

 _Nora put down her glass and turned towards the ghoul in the red frock coat and narrowed her eyes. "Are you talking about leaving Goodneighbor? Aren't you the mayor?"_

 _Hancock shrugged. "Hey, the mayor is still the mayor, whether he's in residence or not. I've walked out of here plenty of times; keeps me honest," he laughed at that last sentence, the alcohol finally giving his head that warm and familiar buzz. "Can't let the power get to my head. That's not what being in charge of Goodneighbor is about." He looked at her with his lipless grin and offered up his glass. "So, what do you say?"_

 _It didn't take Nora long to decide. She knew there was strength in numbers, and Dogmeat was only good for one-sided conversations. She lifted her glass and clinked it with his, grinning._

" _Welcome aboard," she said, taking another sip._

 _Hancock smiled back. "Yeah, I like it. You might be just the right kind of trouble." He knocked back the remaining contents of his glass. "Let me just have a little chat with my community, first. I'll give them the news in the morning." He rose from his chair and clapped her on the shoulder. "I'll meet you at the front gate tomorrow."_

 _As Hancock sauntered away, Nora watched him openly chat with other patrons of the bar before leaving. He seemed to take a real interest in what the people had to say to him, and Nora respected that. She downed the rest of her wine and sat back, wondering just what she may have gotten herself into…_

Hancock wasn't sure why seeing Nora again, after all this time and after tempers had cooled, was making him nervous. Just walking across the bar to her, he had to readjust his frock twice. Something about the way she sat, back upright and straight and legs crossed casually, leaning gently on the counter – it was so familiar; as if no time had passed at all. Hancock felt as if he had gone back in time all those years ago to the first time he had ever approached her in the Third Rail. Nevertheless, he settled in the chair next to her and placed his hat on the bar. He ordered a drink from Whitechapel Charlie, their robotic bartender, and waited in silence as Nora continued to enjoy her red wine.

Even with all the years on her, even with her wrinkles, thinned skin and white hair, Hancock still saw the fiery red head that had barged into his life thirty years ago. Their time spent together had been challenging, intense, passionate and all around fun. Hancock had fallen for her hard, and she for him; and together, they made the world a better place, for a time. Perhaps it was because of those memories that he still felt a small flutter just from sitting next to her and watching as she drank and breathed in and out slowly and calmly.

Of course, he'd never tell _her_ how his insides were feeling. Not anymore.

"All that technology, and you couldn't invent anything to erase the look of time?" he asked as his drink was left for him. He grinned and leaned over the counter. "You sure have changed, Nora."

Her posture remained board-straight as cleared her throat in response. Her silver hair was tied back in a pristine bun, barely a strand out of place. She looked healthy, no residual signs of radiation that you get out in the Commonwealth. Nora's green eyes still held their vibrancy, and she couldn't help the amusement that shone in them, despite Hancock's comment.

She put down her glass. "Still way hotter than you, John."

The ghoul laughed. "Well I can't argue that fact, Nora."

They drank in silence for a few minutes, both trying to find something to say that wouldn't result in a fight. The music blared louder than Nora remembered, but the new music that was slowly emerging was an enjoyable experience. She was pretty sure a few more years of the same forty songs were going to turn her slowly insane.

"Music sure has changed," she finally said. "It's a bit more… eclectic than what I'm used to, but still, it's a nice change."

"Yeah," Hancock sighed, leaning back in his chair and lighting a cigarette. "Magnolia retired two years back. She got herself a nice little rebuild in Concord, or all places."

Nora nodded. "I heard reports that the Minutemen had rebuilt it around a decade ago."

"They're doing well out there," Hancock admitted. "Even after Preston…"

Nora refused to respond, and instead took another sip of her drink, giving Hancock the hint to move on.

"So," he cleared his throat. "About this synth –"

"I don't think we can call her that," Nora interrupted. "She doesn't technically have an operating system. The body is her own, as far as I know. She was born a human, and from a scientific perspective, she still is human."

Hancock snorted. "Ain't no human on earth that can do what she did. Maybe she was human once, but there's no way she could be anymore. Her attack was too brutal, too intense, and she showed no remorse for her actions."

Nora raised an eyebrow. "You could tell all that from the five minutes of blurry black and white footage?"

"Don't need to see it." He took a long drag off of his cigarette. "I've been around long enough, Nora. I've seen plenty of men go down the path of psychotic killer. _Even if_ she is or was being controlled; after a while, that controller is just a placebo. Killing like that eventually becomes second nature, and the first response to all of your problems. You get into a certain zone where nothing else matters but your anger…"

Nora noticed how intensely Hancock's eyes were focusing on his glass, how he absent mindedly swirled his scotch as he spoke. He was remembering something specific, and Nora was unsure if he wanted to talk about it. Instead, she cleared her throat to bring him back into their conversation.

"You were saying before? About the 'synth'?"

He nodded. "I'll keep her here; but I won't lie to my people about her."`

"You're going to have to, John."

"Nope."

"It's for the subject's safety and yours," Nora pressed. "I don't want people spreading news around the Commonwealth about it be held here. It needs to be safe from prying eyes, and the information leaked could cause _a lot_ of trouble."

"So you want to keep all that tech and information to yourself?"

Nora glared. "That's not it at all, and you know it."

"Do I?" Hancock challenged her, leaning in closer to her and glaring. "C'mon Nora, it wasn't all that long ago you left me for the Institute. You let that son of yours warp your thinking into believing that the Railroad was dangerous, that the Brotherhood was dangerous, and that all tech needed to be governed by the Institute. Now, here we are, with you as the new Director, ordering me to keep this new technology secret from everyone else? Not even your goddamn Institute is going to know about it until _you're_ ready to tell them. All this secrecy seems reminiscent of a certain Father-figure, enslaving synths and kidnapping innocent people from the Commonwealth."

Nora slammed her glass on the counter, breaking it. Hancock immediately stopped talking; a few patrons surrounding them stared. Hancock saw her eyes light up with an angry fire and she stood abruptly.

"You, me, outside, _now_ ," she ordered, marching away from him to the stairs leading to the entrance.

Hancock watched her for a moment before downing his drink, putting on his hat, and following her path out of the Third Rail. He kept his hands in his coat pockets, fists tight, his body shaking slightly. Who was she to order him around? Him? The fucking mayor of Goodneighbor! He stormed up the stairs, mumbling obscenities under his breath until he opened the large double door to the outside. He looked around in the twilight to see Nora momentarily in his peripheral vision –

 _CRACK!_

Hancock stumbled back, stars exploding in his vision and he cursed. Grabbing on to the wall of the old subway entrance, Hancock bent over for a few seconds, holding onto the crevice where his nose once was. There was blood on his fingers, but it wasn't much, and his entire face felt tingly and numb from the hit.

"What the fuck, Nora?!" he yelled, rubbing the blood from his nose onto his pants. "Fuck! You'd have broken my goddamn nose, if I still had one!"

Nora rolled her eyes. "Oh, quite complaining. I hardly touched you."

Hancock found his cool again and straightened his posture, hat and coat. "Mind telling me what the fuck that was for?"

In one quick stride, Nora closed the space between herself and the mayor. She jammed an accusing finger in his face and frowned. The heated look in her eyes made the pain in his face almost non-existent as he stared at her, eyes wide.

"Now you listen to me, John Hancock, and listen good. This is not about you and me; this is not about extortion or secret science experiments. This… humanoid synth is dangerous to me, to you, your people, and everyone in the Commonwealth. Until I can properly assess the threat level, it's to stay under wraps. No one needs to know she's here. The more that knowledge is passed around, the higher the change someone with ulterior motives can come along and try to claim that technology for themselves."

"Cause it's only safe in _your_ hands, ain't that right?" he challenged, causing Nora to pause and take a step back. Hancock readjusted his tricorn hat and cleared his throat. "Look, I'll keep _what_ she is a secret, if I can. I won't lie that we have a captive here, though, especially under _Institute_ authority."

"No, no, no," she chided. "This is _not_ official business of the Institute. The board doesn't know about this woman; they only know about the scientist behind it."

Hancock couldn't help the grin that plastered itself to his face. "Welcome to politics, sister."

Nora laughed. She couldn't help herself. John was good with words, and his little one-liners and quips always helped to alter her mood for the better. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, her mind travelling back in time to when she was his and vice versa. She felt a small tug in her chest, and quickly they diverted their eyes.

"Well I'm gonna go back down and put some ice on this," he motioned to his ruined nose that was already starting to purple slightly. "You comin'? Something tells me Nick and I are gonna burn that midnight oil."

"No thanks," Nora shook her head. "I have some preparations to do back at my office." She smiled. "Besides, this old body could never keep up with you two anymore. Just tell Nick to meet me at the front gate in the morning."

Hancock nodded, opening the door to the underground subway station. "Will do," he said. He paused for a moment, watching her walk away, then called out, "Hey, Nora?"

She stopped and turned back to him. "Yeah?"

He smiled a genuine smile at her this time. "It's good to see you again."

Nora laughed to herself. "It's good to see you, too."

They parted ways. Nora input her coordinates so she could be transferred home, John headed down the stairs, not waiting for the crack of white and blue lighting that came when she did that. He descended the stairs slowly, mulling over the night's events and wishing the flutter in his chest would disappear. Seeing Nora again had stirred up a whole mess of emotions that he still needed to deal with, and now he realized it more than ever. Now wasn't the time, though. As he made it back to his private room to see Nick still sitting on the couch, he bottled the mess back up and tucked it away. Nick looked up at him and Hancock smiled, happy to have his old friend there with him.

"It went well, I take it?" Nick asked when he saw the smile on Hancock's face.

Hancock picked up a bottle vodka and took a swig. "Yeah, yeah, we made nice," he answered. "It's all good Nicky-boy." He walked over to the coffee table and searched for an available Jet container. After shaking a few duds, he finally found a full one. He turned to Nick and raised his hand high. "What do you say, Nick? Will you keep this ghoul company? We'll go and mingle and drink, just like the old days?"

Nick laughed and shook his head. It was against his better judgement to stay in Goodneighbor all night, especially with John Hancock; but it had been years since they had seen each other. And truthfully, he had been having a good time before the shit hit the fan. Now, with him in better spirits, it couldn't hurt to spend the evening drowning in booze and good conversation, would it? Nick took up another glass, poured himself a drink, and toasted Hancock while the ghoul sucked back the Jet.

"Let's have some fun!" Hanock yelled, grabbing Nick under his arm and leading him to the main area, laughing loudly for all of Goodneighbor to hear.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Evan?! V?! What the fuck?!"

Evan was holding tight to his friend as they staggered back to the camp. V was sweating and cold, her eyes were wide and unblinking, and it seemed like she was mumbling under her breath; but Evan couldn't make out the words. As he set her down clumsily in front of the fire, Rob ran and got a blanket to drape over her.

"She's covered in blood," Callie stated. She glared first at V, then at her brother. "Why is she covered in blood _this time_ , Evan?"

Evan sat down heavily in front of the fire, cradling his arm. Amber brought over their wash basin and a cloth to wipe the blood from V's face. Evan sighed and rubbed his temple.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "I-I'm not sure exactly what happened. I went to look for her, and as soon as I asked the bartender where she was, we heard gunfire and a commotion upstairs. He and the hotel owner and some cowboy followed me upstairs where she was…"

Amber, Rob and Callie stared at Evan as his sentence trailed off. It was clear he was still trying to process what he had seen. Rob knelt down to his younger brother and squeezed his should to reassure him.

"Come on man, you got this. What happened?"

Evan took a deep breath to steady his nerves and nodded. "She was surrounded by men – four, or maybe five, I'm not too sure."

Rob raised an eyebrow, concerned. "You don't know how many?"

Evan shook his head. "The room was… messy. It was hard to get a clear view of the bodies – "

"So she killed a bunch of people," Callie interrupted, the anger rising in her voice.

"Callie," Amber warned, still wiping the gore from V's pale and stunned face.

"No. No, Amber," Callie replied. "How many _more_ times does this have to happen before we say that enough is enough? It seems like our lives have been royally fucked up ever since that _thing_ walked in, and now she can't even control her 'urges'?"

"It's not an urge!" Evan yelled. "She can't help what happened to her, Callie! This cowboy – Roland, I think his name was – said she killed gang members! They would have raped and killed her, and I'm pretty sure they've done it before. What else was she supposed to do?!"

"Hm, I don't know Evan, maybe she could have used that super powered body of hers to escape?" Callie threw her hands up. "I mean, seriously? She's faster than any human or synth we've ever seen and stronger! So, why bother causing more problems for us – for the people of this town – when she could have just as easily run away? Amber shouldn't have even left her there alone in the first place!"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" the blond challenged.

Evan shot up, angrier than he had ever been at his twin sister. His fists clenched and his body shook as he stared her down.

"So we should let rapists and raiders live?! If that's how you think, Callie, then we'd have been dead back at the farm a long time ago! If it wasn't for V, we wouldn't even be here! Just because it isn't _our_ lives at stake, doesn't give us a right to turn a blind eye!"

Rob finally placed himself between his two siblings. "Okay, okay, you guys need to take a breath, here –"

"No! No, Rob! Evan needs to hear this!" Callie pushed past her much taller brother and approached Evan. "Evan, I know she saved us once; I know she's had a rough life and that nothing has been fair for her; but she is _dangerous_. This is the third time this has happened since she's been in our lives, and who knows how many times it had happened before? Whatever unfair thing was done to her, it's made her unpredictable and dangerous. All it takes is getting her mad, and she loses it! What if we end up on her warpath one day, huh? She said so herself that she can't control her actions when she get like that."

Evan tore his eyes away from his sister's and stared down at his feet. Callie knew he finally understood her point of view, but she also knew he'd never accept it. He and V were just too close; their friendship was too strong. But he needed to hear this. He needed to listen to his family's concerns before his friend did something to make him regret his relationship with her before it was too late.

No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity, the silence only broken by the sounds of the crackling fire and Amber wringing out the bloodied cloth. In the distance, random gunshots would ring out every few seconds; the Commonwealth was never a safe place to be at night alone, and Amber sighed, annoyed at their predicament. Then, a gentle hand came to her wrist.

"Callie is right."

All eyes turned, surprised by V's answer. Evan dropped down, nearly shoving Amber out of the way. He grabbed V's hands and shook his head.

"She's not right, V. You're not dangerous. Not to us."

V smiled at Evan, her eyes revealing her exhaustion. "It's okay, Evan. Callie _is_ right. My anger… I just can't control it. I – I think there's a part of me deep down that doesn't even want to."

"Come on, V," Amber gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "You don't mean that. That's Alistair talking, and his crazy antics; not you."

V shuddered, and then slowly stood. "There's a small pond two blocks east of here, according to the map. I'm going to go see about washing up." She took one handgun and an extra clip. "Discuss amongst yourselves what you want to do. If you want to part ways, go back to your farm or anywhere else without me, I completely understand, and I won't stand in your way."

Without another word, she picked up a ratty old towel from their caravan, a fresh set of clothes, and left.

The group was quiet for a few moments. Evan sat in front of the fire in his anger and refused to look away from the flames. It was Rob who was first to finally speak up.

"Well it seems we have a big issue to discuss."

"There's nothing to discuss," Evan retorted.

"Evan –"

"Rob, she's family. She's been with us for over a year and a half and is every bit family as you, me, Callie or Amber."

"No one said she wasn't," Amber replied, standing next to Rob and grasping his hand.

"And yet, here we are. We're discussing whether or not to _abandon_ her? Dad wanted us to stick together!"

"Evan," Rob interrupted. "I don't think dad quite understood what we'd be getting into. Now, I love V like a sister, but Callie is right, her irrational anger can make things difficult for us."

"Callie's wanted V gone since dad died!" Evan shouted, pointing at his sister. "She blames V for all of it! But she never acknowledges the time V saved us. We'd be dead if it wasn't for her! She has a major grudge and refuses to forgive what happened and move on. V shouldn't be cast out for something she has no control over!"

Callie was furious. She could feel her blood boiling and could hear her heart thudding in her ears. She marched over to Evan and spun him around roughly, nearly toppling him over. He stared at her in disbelief as she grabbed his arm, hard, and pulled him to her.

"Now you listen to me, brother," she began, her voice threatening to crack from her overwhelming emotions. "I don't deny that V saved us; in fact, I've thanked her on numerous occasions. But, this is getting out of hand. We can't risk entire _towns_ running us out because of her. V even _admitted_ that she's dangerous. We have to take this seriously and consider all of our options, here."

She let Evan go and dropped in front of the fire, wiping tears away from her eyes with the back of her arm and busying herself with cleaning their dishes. Evan stood, dumbfounded at Callie's reaction. His sister had never been so forthcoming about her emotions before, even to him. After their father had died, she had retreated even further into herself and he had done nothing to help her out of it. He had been so focused on making V feel at home, like a part of the family, that he had forgotten, at times, about his actual family. He had alienated himself from the rest of the group that even his own twin felt she couldn't fully open up to him. His dad never had favorites, and he shouldn't either.

Evan sat down next to Callie and wrapped his good arm around her shoulder. She immediately dropped her dishes and buried her face in his shoulder, letting out a long sob. He shook his head and stroked her hair reassuringly.

"I'm so sorry I was such an asshole," he said, trying to calm her down. Eventually, Rob and Amber joined them, all four now sitting in front of the crackling fire. Evan sat back and sighed, turning his gaze to the sky, watching it turn from a deep orange and red to a dark indigo. He felt his eyes grow heavy, felt his body relaxing, and while his mind wandered, he slipped into a light sleep, waiting for V to come back.

* * *

 _Evan sat with his eyes wide and mouth agape. He had never seen anyone eat so much food in his life. The woman with white hair and the darkest, dirtiest clothes he had ever seen was shoving food down her throat, nearly choking herself in the process. She leaned over her plate possessively, and Evan noticed her incredibly bright blue eyes darting around the room as if watching for predators. Evan, his older brother Rob and his girlfriend Amber sat across from this stranger, watching her eat with some sort of scared fascination._

 _Finally, their father returned with mutfruit tea and enough cups for everyone. He sat next to the stranger at the table and handed the cups around, filling his and their guest's cup. The woman jumped slightly, as if she had forgotten she was in their home. She took the cup offered to her and held it to her lips, sipping lightly and always keeping her eyes on them._

" _How's Callie?" Evan finally asked._

" _She's sleeping, finally," his father answered. "Took a while to calm her down, but she's going to be just fine." He turned to the stranger with a smile. "Thank you, stranger, for saving me and my family. If you hadn't come along, we'd be dead ten times over by now. Raiders on their own are stupid and weak, but together? Well, they can get organized and… creative right quick."_

 _She didn't respond, and that sent a feeling of unease down Evan's spine. She seemed so cold and distant. He had never been out in the Wasteland alone, and he wondered if this is what it did to you._

 _His dad tried again. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need. You look like you could use a shower and a decent night's sleep. We have an extra bed upstairs, and I'm sure Amber here would borrow you some clothes. Uh, there's a town about ten miles northeast of here that we sell and trade with. You can get any equipment you might need for your journey."_

 _The woman gulped down her last bit and wiped her mouth with the back of her dirty shirt sleeve. "Thank you," she finally mumbled._

 _Evan was so taken aback by her response that he completely missed the cup he was pouring tea into. Unfortunately for Rob, his lap was the receiving end for the hot water._

" _Fuck! Evan!"_

" _Sorry! Sorry!"_

" _Ohmigosh! Rob! Are you okay?" Amber exclaimed._

 _Meanwhile, their father slapped his hand on the table, smiling and seemingly unaware of his sons and their strife._

" _So, you_ **do** _talk?!" he bellowed. "God be praised! I was worried your little collapse out there did something to your speech!" Taking a sip of tea, he calmed himself and continued. "So,_ **if** _you'll be staying for a while, could we know your name?"_

 _She swallowed another bite. "V."_

" _V?"_

" _V."_

" _Is that short for anything?"_

" _No."_

 _Evan's dad leaned closer, studying her face and the lack of expression in it. He scratched his beard quizzically._

" _Did your parent's name you that?" Evan piped up._

 _Vibrant blue eyes met his dark brown ones and Evan felt as if he had been punched in the chest. Her gaze was so intense, and the severity of it made him slightly uneasy. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, and it definitely wasn't from any heat._

" _No," she answered._

" _Where are you from?" his dad asked._

" _Nowhere."_

" _Never heard of that place before," he said, bemused by the look of confusion on her face. After a beat, she sipped her tea and gazed into her cup._

" _South of here," she said. "New York."_

 _Rob laughed as he dabbed at his wet lap with a towel. "New York is inhabitable. It was reduced to absolute rubble in the Great War. No way you came from there."_

 _Her eyes never left her cup as he spoke. "Vault."_

 _Their dad nodded. "And was it the Vault that taught you to fight like that?"_

 _V didn't respond, but Evan noticed the tightening of her hands around her tea cup. He felt an unsettling chill run down his spine as he saw small cracks begin to crawl out from her hands and up to the lip of the porcelain. He glanced around and saw Rob and Amber tending to his wet lap still, and his father seemed lost in his own thoughts. He didn't like the way this woman's temper seemed to be heading, so he finally spoke up._

" _Dad, maybe our guest – V – needs some time to relax and be alone? I can go show her to the water pump and tub?"_

 _That seemed to snap his father out of his daze and he smiled at Evan. "Sure son, go on."_

 _Evan stood and motioned for V to follow him, which she did silently. He led her to the bathroom at the back of the house._

" _I'm sorry," Evan apologized as he started the small coal fires below the tub basin. "My dad can be pretty nosey of things you may not want to talk about."_

 _V simply stood and watched him work, making Evan even more nervous._

" _Uh… just pump the water here," he motioned to their indoor pump. "We have a well just out back connected to it. The coals beneath the basin will warm the water in about ten minutes. I'm sure Amber will come by with fresh clothes in a bit." He stood and clapped his hands together. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it. Towels are in the drawer there," he pointed to the chest under the mirror. "Just… make yourself at home, I guess."_

 _For a moment, they just stood and stared at each other. Evan's nerves continued to flicker and make him uncomfortable. This woman seemed… wrong. Maybe that wasn't the right word, but it was the only on he could think of. Her eyes, though vibrant blue, seemed dead and glossy. Her face remained stoic, despite their efforts to make her feel comfortable. She was just… wrong._

 _Evan finally broke free of her gaze and walked past her to leave._

" _Your father is right to be nosey."_

 _He froze, surprised at her statement. Slowly, he turned around and caught those blue eyes staring at him._

" _I'm sorry?" he asked._

" _Your father should question everything about everyone that comes here. Your farm and home are beautiful, and well-built and supplied. You've all worked hard, so it needs to stay protected."_

 _Evan laughed. "I mean, it's okay here – "_

" _It's more than okay," she urged. "It's wonderful. Thank you."_

 _She didn't smile, but Evan could hear the sincerity in her voice, and it calmed him slightly. He nodded his appreciation and left, closing the door behind him. He walked back to the kitchen table to find his dad sitting alone, drinking tea. Evan sat quietly next to his father, and took another cup for himself._

" _Did you know your grandmother was a Vault dweller?" his father asked. Evan shook his head. His dad turned to him and continued. "Her and her family, your great-grandparents, were handpicked from the Commonwealth with a handful of others to live in a Vault. Your grandmother was just a child back then."_

 _Evan frowned. "Dad, I don't understand."_

" _Vault Tec seemed like a saving grace back when the threat of total nuclear war was imminent. Your mother told me that most of their Vaults, though, were used for scientific testing of some sort. Social experiments, genetic experiments, and nearly any Vault dweller that went in never came out."_

 _Evan sipped his tea. "Then what happened to mom's… mom?"_

 _His father didn't respond for a few moments, and Evan thought he'd have to repeat himself until he finally spoke up. "Some sort of genetic testing went on in there. The Vault made itself known once a year, and opened its doors to anyone above ground looking for the safety of a Vault. However, the condition was always a lifelong contract. You know our world now, and people would flock to the Vault every year, hoping to be picked."_

 _Evan was intrigued. He mother had died giving birth to him and his sister, and his father rarely ever spoke of her or her family. He felt as if this opened line of communication was a big step for him and his father ever since he had come out about his true feelings towards other men. His father had taken well up front, but ever since then, Evan knew their relationship had changed. This felt like an important step they were taking together, and he would do anything to keep this closeness he felt._

" _So," Evan cleared his throat. "What happened?"_

" _Your grandmother and_ her _mother were accepted. That year, it had been mostly women, and they had to leave your great-grandfather behind. Form what your mom told me, your grandmother was subjected to genetic testing and tissue testing. For most of your grandmother's youth, she was locked away in a cage, only brought out to be cut up and sampled."_

 _Evan shuddered. He heard that Vault-Tec had been bad news, back in the day, but most of the Vaults now were run by sane leaders who only wanted to keep their community safe. His father had traded with Vaults in the past, and they seemed perfectly normal and happy people. It was crazy to know that there were still Vaults out there still doing the same experiments they were tasked into doing almost three hundred years ago._

" _The reason they took mostly women," his father continued. "Was because, through selective genetic application and… breeding… they had an influx of male occupants. I suppose Vault Tec was ready to breed their next generation of… whatever it was they set out to accomplish. Your grandmother was impregnated as soon as she was of age, then submitted for more testing."_

 _The silence around them was thick; Evan could feel the tension in his father's words. His dad sat, turning his tea cup around and around in his hands, watching the tea water slosh around. Evan could tell this was difficult for his father, and would give him all the time he required._

" _Your mother was born in a Vault, and she was immediately ripped from your grandmother and tested, just as she was. Caged, abused, and left to rot."_

" _But she escaped, right?" Evan asked._

 _He father nodded. "After a few years, when your mother was ten, her mother came to her in the night. She had broken free of her prison and came to your mother to free her. They escaped through an access tunnel built for emergencies without much issue… but the years of torture left its mark on them. Your grandmother had continued to be raped and impregnated after your mother was born, but she miscarried every time. It strained their relationship at a time when they only had each other; but the trust just wasn't there – hell, they barely even knew each other at that point. They didn't have a single cap or tradable item on them, or the knowhow on how to survive out here."_

 _His father stared into space again, and Evan watched the pain roll over his face. He cleared his throat a few times and wiped at his eyes, trying to keep himself together in front of his son. Evan put a supportive hand over his father's shoulder and smiled, urging him to continue, if he could._

" _Thank you, son," his father said. After a shake of his head, he continued. "I met your mother when we were eighteen. God," he smiled. "She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen out here in this desolate wasteland. It was love at first sight, at least for me; but your mother would have none of it. All of those years of abuse and hardship made her cautious to trust strangers – especially men. But I fought for her. I fought like hell to have her by my side. Her mother, of course, protested against our eventual relationship, but we were in love, and your mom was fierce and stubborn, she wouldn't listen to the rantings of a crazy woman," he snickered. "Her words, not mine._

" _The arguments between them would get so bad, that after I proposed to her, they fought physically. Her mother hated that she was going to be abandoned and was going to stop at nothing to come between us. I came upon them in the middle of their fight… and your grandmother… she had nearly stabbed your mother to death with a butcher knife. I intervened in time but – "_

" _You killed her?"_

" _Yes. I killed her. I had no choice." His father's voice broke and his lips trembled as he tried to regain his composure. "Your mother never blamed me, never held it against me. I think a part of her was relieved that her own mother was finally at peace and free. We lived happily enough, after that. Your brother came along and she loved him, just like she loved you and Callie before you got here…"_

" _So, what does this have to do with our… guest?" Evan asked._

 _His father finally met his gaze, his eyes serious now, intense._

" _That woman has the same look your mother did whenever someone brought up the Vaults; like your emotions were wiped from existence. That girl has been through something traumatic, Evan. She may never talk about it with us, but we need to make her feel as welcome here as possible, and safe. Can I count on you to help me do that?"_

 _Without missing a beat, Evan nodded vehemently, making his dad smile._

" _Thank you, son."_

* * *

"So… am I still a part of the group?" V asked as she sat down by the fire, running her hands through her wet hair.

The sky was black now. Night had crept upon them and settled nicely overhead while the group sat in silence. Evan looked around and noticed no one was making eye contact with V. He frowned and finally stood up.

"Guys, V is family, simple as that. We don't turn our backs on family no matter what. Dad told us to stay _together_ , to find a new life _together_. No one else in this truly fucked up world will have our backs like we all do. V," he turned to her. "Something is obviously going on with you, and it has everything to do with what happened in that Vault. I say, let's press on. Let's get to the Commonwealth; find the Institute, and hopefully someone will be able to help us – to help you. What do you say, guys?"

"Well, none of you are going anywhere anytime soon, so you've all got some time to mull that speech around in the ol' noggin."

All heads turned abruptly to see the man in the cowboy hat standing ten paces away from them, shotgun cocked and ready, aiming in their direction.

V could instantly feel the adrenaline and anger build up again, her body shook and her temperature rose. However, the cold feeling of another gun barrel on her back brought her heartbeat back to normal.

"Oh no you don't, love. Sit your ass back down, or you'll all die tonight."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"All right Jones, all right, put down your gun. There's no need to get so close and personal with these kids." Cowboy hat eyed the group and shook his head. "Something tells me these kids have been through more than enough." He put down his shotgun and motioned for the man named Jones to do the same. "Come on now, let them sit."

V felt the gun barrel ease off of her back and she heard an annoyed grunt. She nodded towards the old cowboy. "What's with the guns, old man?"

He grinned. "So long as you kids don't try to hightail it out of here, I supposed I can put mine down, as well." He holstered the shotgun into a band on his hip and he nodded towards the campfire. "Why don't you all take a seat and we can get to know each other a little bit better?"

It came out like a question, but the group knew that it wasn't a request. Slowly, they all sat down again and waited for the old cowboy to limp to suitable spot. He leaned as casually as he could against an old trashcan and folded his hands in front of him. Jones, a bald headed, aggressively built mercenary looking type, took up beside him. He handed the cowboy a cigarette and lit it for him, standing still and patient as the cowboy inhaled and exhaled, savoring the nicotine.

"My name is Roland, and I'm kind of the law enforcement in Brockton Pass." He pointed loosely in V's direction. "Your friend here caused quite a ruckus tonight that the hotel owners are _still_ in the middle of cleaning."

Rob piped up. "Sir, I apologize for whatever V did, but I'm sure it was in self-defense."

Roland raised a hand to shush him, and Rob obliged.

"Now, I'm not here to arrest you or execute you, if that's what you're thinking. Though, I don't much care for the _way_ your friend disposed of these assholes, it was definitely more effective," he laughed and nudged his partner. "Ain't that right, Jones?"

Jones didn't respond.

"Well, anyway," Roland continued. "Though what was done is commendable, it puts our sleepy little trade town at high risk for retaliation. Markman's gang is the ruthless, take-no-prisoners type, and they _will_ come to punish our town for what she did. Now, therein lies the problem."

"So what do you want us to do?" Amber asked.

Roland's weathered and slightly scarred face lit up as he grinned. "Right to business, huh? I like it." He readjusted his stance, wincing from the effort it put on his leg, and sighed. "Markman and his band of assholes need to be stopped, that's the long and short of it. However, it's always just been me and Jones, which is not enough to take out his gang of thirty or more. I'd like you all to accompany us and help us put them down."

Rob laughed. "Even with our help, what you're asking is suicide."

"Oh, I think we have a fighting change with your synth friend over there."

Everyone tensed, their eyes shifting to V, who remained silent.

Roland picked up on it. "Oh, I see. You kids on the run because of her? What? She an Institute escapee from the Commonwealth? Is she being hunted? Did she belong to anyone before you found her?"

"She doesn't belong to anyone!" Evan yelled, shooting up from his seat in defense of his friend. This caused Jones to instantly react and aim his gun at Evan, his finger pushing lightly on the trigger.

"Evan, sit down," V ordered, her voice even. At first, she didn't think he'd listen; his hands were closed into shaking fists, his skin was flushed and the look on his face emitted pure rage. However, he looked down at V and was able to compose himself. He sat.

Roland took a final drag of his cigarette and squished it under his boot heel. "Look," he said as smoke billowed from his mouth. "I'm giving you an option here. It's either help us and risk dying, or refuse, and then I'll just have to try and kill you anyway." He kept his gaze on V the entire time, as if the choice was up to her alone. "I'm not a fool," he said. "I know you could kill me and Jones here without breaking a sweat; but can you save all of your friends in the process? The choice is yours."

Callie glared at V; furious at her for putting them in this position.

"Look," Rob said, slowly rising so he could talk face to face with Roland. "We don't even have any ammunition left for our weapons, so we'd really be of no use to you at all. I'm sorry for what V did, but there has to be some other way."

Roland was quiet for a moment while he thought about Rob's offer. He whispered over to Jones, who gave a few nods here and there. After a few moment of conversing with each other, Roland pulled away, scratched at his beard and cleared his throat.

"Tell you what," he began. "I'll make this an even better deal. Markman's base of operations is in the old police station about three miles northeast of the Pass. It's well protected, and the area can be hard to reach due to their field of landmines, but I'm sure he has a large stockpile of weapons, caps, armor, and just about any kind of tradable junk you could imagine. You guys help us clear out the station, and we can do a thirty-seventy split on the caches. Seventy to the Pass, of course, to dispense amongst our town and replenish our armory, as well as to pay us back for the guns and ammunition we'll be supplying you for the mission. This is the only offer I'll give, so take a few minutes to decide. We'll wait."

The five of them got up and moved to the opposite side of the camp, out of earshot of the two men.

"So, what do you guys think?" Rob asked.

Amber scoffed. "I guess we don't really have a choice, do we?"

"No, I guess not."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Do we even need to debate this? It's V's fault we're in this mess, so she should go alone."

"Callie!"

"Well?" she persisted. "She's a super charged murder machine who knows best out of all of us on how to handle herself in a gun fight. We've done a bit of shooting, and we've gotten lucky most times, but our luck is bound to run out eventually."

Evan shook his head. "No. No. Absolutely not. We all go, or none go, simple as that."

"No Evan, Callie is right. I'll go alone," V interjected, stepping forward and placing her hand on Evan's shoulder.

Evan was visually pissed and refused to answer, his face red.

Rob grabbed V's arm. "V and I will both go."

"Rob –" Amber tried to raise her concern, but Rob raised his hand to quiet her gently.

"No arguments and no debates, this time," he insisted. "We're all tired, we've got very little supplies left and frankly," he eyes the two strangers behind them suspiciously. "I just want to get the fuck out of here. Next to V, I'm the most experienced shooter, so we'll have a better chance at surviving if things get out of hand. The three of you will come along, but you'll stay on the outskirts of the area. If things go wrong, for any reason, get out of there and keep heading towards the Commonwealth."

The others wanted to protest, but they knew that once Rob made up his mind, the plan was final.

"Rob," Evan said warily. "I don't like this."

"You don't have to like it," he replied.

"But what do we do if –"

"So, what's the verdict?" Roland yelled from across the camp, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather duster.

Rob smiled and V, who returned the gesture. "I'm going to need all of my weapons back from that cowboy, anyways," she said.

Rob laughed. "Let's go tell them our terms.

* * *

"You look like shit, Nick."

Nick rubbed at the back of his neck, being careful not to tear at the fragile and worn skin. He and Hancock had gone hard last night. Too hard, even by synth standards. Not that the alcohol affected him too badly, but coupled with the lack of rest? He was definitely feeling run down that morning, especially as the bright sun was peaking over the walls of Goodneighbor and shining right in his synthetic eyes. Nick groaned, readjusted his trench coat, and stretched.

"Yeah, John and I had a lot of catching up to do, you know."

Nora stood in her pristine white Institute lab coat, black pencil skirt reaching her knees, and a yellow blouse buttoned just below her collarbone. Her white hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and she wore a pair of shined black loafers that were comfortable for long distance walking. Beside her stood X6-88, arms crossed and sunglasses brightly reflecting the morning sun. As usual, his face was stoic and expressionless, his body language telling Nick that he was eager to leave.

"Are we prepared then, Director?" X6 asked Nora, completely ignoring the old detective.

Nora nodded, checking map coordinate in her Pip-Boy. "Just let me check out our route to Cabot's place. After we've searched the house, we'll use our transporter to get as close to the New York location as we possibly can –"

"Um, Nora?" Nick interrupted, approaching her rather sheepishly.

"Yes?" Nora didn't look up until she hear a familiar groan off in the distance. Her heart stopped and her posture grew rigid. She looked up to see that red coat and black boots heading her way in a tired stumble. She glared in Nick's direction.

"What the fu –"

"Yeah," he interrupted, scratching his head. "About that…"

Hancock approached the trio, his attitude chipper, despite his pounding headache and occasional dizzy spell. He had woken up after a three hour power nap to a bright, clear, sunny sky. Usually, he would mumble obscenities towards the day, roll over and go back to sleep. Usually, Hamm wouldn't be prodding him to get out of bed. Usually, business couldn't start until the afternoon, when he'd had enough time to clean up, chem up, eat and meet with whoever needed to see him. Usually, he'd go about the day with a permafrown always on his face until he could party that night to forget his sorrows.

Today, though… Today was different. The biggest smile was plastered on his scarred face. Hamm had barely needed to even nudge him (he had been terrified to do it. Hancock had made good on his word and taken a pinky last night) and Hancock had practically sprung from his bed, washed, dressed and headed out the doors of the old State House. Slung over his shoulder was his shotgun and a bag full of shells, chems and first aid, while mentats rattled in their metal tin in his jacket breast pocket.

The ungodly early morning, the headache, the nausea he was experiencing, all of it was worth it just to see the pissed off look on Nora's face as he strolled up.

"Nick," Nora seethed as the ghoul approached.

"Look, Nora, I'm sorry," he apologized. "It was part of the deal –"

"I sure as hell didn't make any deal, _Nick._ "

"He has a right to come along. It is _his_ town that we are utilizing, here."

Nora glared. "He doesn't need to be a part of this stage. The fewer bodies going, the better."

X6 only watched the exchange in silence, keeping a close eye on the approaching ghoul. He kept a loose hand on his laser rifle, just in case things go out of hand. By the rate of Nora's heartbeat, he calculated an eighty percent change that it may go south. He knew the reputation of Goodneighbor's mayor; he met him, after all, during the peak of his and Nora's relationship. This was a conflict of interest, and it could jeopardize his Director's focus. He had to put a stop to it. He walked over to Nora and Nick, placing himself between them and Hancock, rifle raised and ready to fire.

Hancock stopped, but the smile never left his face.

"Hey, ya big ol' tin can. Long time, no see! Not that I'm complaining or anythin'."

Nick and Nora stopped their discussion and turned to X6 and Hancock.

"X6!" Nora shouted, running forward and knocking his gun down. "What are you doing?"

"Your ex-lover can compromise this mission, ma'am," X6 stated flatly. "Judging by your heart rate, body temperature and vocal tone, you agree. He cannot come with us."

"That's not for you to decide, X6," Nora replied, her anger subsiding slightly to make room for annoyance at his insubordination. "Stand down."

X6 obeyed, though not without a moment of defiant hesitation. "And I'm not a tin can. My organs and bone structure are identical to that of humans. I'm simply more efficient."

"Noted," Hancock grinned.

Nora sighed, rubbing her temples. "John," she scoffed, suddenly feeling extremely old and tired. "Just… why?"

Hancock continued grinning. "Got a town to protect here, Nora. How would it look if I didn't accompany the Director of the Institute on her mission to bring a deadly weapon back here? I need to ensure you aren't up to anything dastardly." The look she gave him was just golden. He laughed. "Besides, the look on your face at this very moment is totally worth it."

"Jesus, John," Nick muttered under his breath.

Nora's fists tightened as Hancock approached her. He kept an eye on her hands, mindful of the mean left hook she still had. He extended his hand in a friendly gesture, that big smile of his still plastered on his lips.

"So, I come with you, you get an extra set of eyes to watch your back, we all go to Cabot's and scope the place out. Sounds like a win-win to me. Come on Nora, you know you're aching for my old wit and charm!"

Nora seethed. "This isn't up for negotiation –"

"Great!" Hancock cut her off and walked nonchalantly past her towards the main gates. "I'm so glad we're on the same page. Let's make a mile, then!"

Hancock exited the gates and Nick quickly stepped to Nora's side as she stared in anger and disbelief.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"Now, Nora –"

"Nope. Nuh uh. This town's going to have to run elections. I'm gonna kill him."

* * *

In pre-war times, a walk from the old State House up to Cabot's house on the water's edge would have taken thirty minutes tops. In the post-nuclear era, however, it could take anywhere from one to two hours, depending on what you ran into along the way. They would have to walk around Goodneighbor's walls and take many detours due to the wreckage and rubble on the main streets. They would also have to move cautiously, in the event that they crossed paths with Raiders, Gunners, super mutants or any other of a million things that could kill you in the open world.

X6 scoffed at the crumbling buildings. Everything above ground was just so lifeless and dull and dirty. As they walked, debris and garbage was constantly crunching beneath their shoes and he could hear building pieces falling and crumbling in the distance. In addition to literally _hearing_ the Commonwealth falling apart, X6 could hear the occasional gunfight breaking out miles away from them, the _pap!pap!pap!pap!_ of gunfight echoing off of the destroyed high rise towers. It boggled his mind that Institute employees would want to actually live out here, and it infuriated him that the Director was not welcomed more with all that she had done to better the world.

Hancock, on the other hand, loved it. He loved the dilapidated state of the world and the chaos that ensued. As they carefully tread between torn apart buildings and over fallen debris, he couldn't help but enjoy the rush of being on constant alert. Life in the Commonwealth was exciting and rewarding, if you knew where to look and how to handle yourself.

As they rounded a blown apart café, the morning sun came out and nearly blinded them all. Nora raised her arm up to shield her eyes and groaned.

"X6, see anything up ahead?" she asked.

The synth scanned ahead and noticed the slightest of movements a few blocks up the street. He kept still and continued to scan the area, turning his heat sensors on for a better visual.

"Up ahead," he said. "About forty paces or so. A large mass… Most likely a yao-guai or super mutant of some kind."

"Hell, Nora, let's just kill it and get this show on the road," Hancock groaned, pushing past the three of them, shotgun cocked and ready. "Ain't nothin' out here we haven't killed before."

"John," Nora warned, her and Nick running to catch up with him, guns drawn.

"John, slow down," Nick called as they got closer to the mystery movement.

"You wanna get to Cabot's place anytime today? This is the fastest route, and nothing too serious ever passes through here. We go this," Hancock explained. He turned to them. "Nothin' out here has gotten us before, and Shiny over there says it's just one thing. What could be so dangerous that –"

"DIRECTOR! RUN! RUN DAMMIT!"

Nora looked past John to see what X6 was yelling about, and she was greeted by the two legged, eight foot tall monstrosity known as a Deathclaw. No one really knows what it mutated from; possibly a lizard due to its dinosaur-like resemblance. It had two large and sharp horns sprouting form the top of its scaly head, the largest and sharpest teeth that could chomp through rocks and enormous clawed hands that have ripped through steel and solid concrete. Its large muscles flexed as it rose on its hind legs, its tail swishing lazily behind it as it finally let out an ear-piercing roar that shook the very ground the stood on, sending birds in the area scattering into the sky.

Without missing a beat, Hancock withdrew a vial of PsychoJet and shoved it into his arm. He dropped the syringe, turned and immediately began opening fire on the monster. Meanwhile, Nora was knocked down into cover by Nick as he tried to hide her away. She fell with a hard _oomf!_ and felt a sharp pain in her head.

"Stay here!" Nick yelled and rose to join Hancock in the battle. Nora obliged, rising only enough to be comfortable as she touched her forehead, blood staining her fingers. She turned back to X6.

"X6! Turn on your stealth mode and flank it! Kill it before it kills us!"

Instantly, the synth disappeared, leaving only a slight distortion of its body. Stealth in her courser's had been altered so that the use of the clunky old boxes was no longer required. The technology of the Stealth-Boy boxes was minimized and implanted into a synthetic's nervous system in order for the advanced cloaking device to operate off of their biology. That little bit of technology had taken Nora and her team over twenty five years to perfect.

It was worth it, though. So worth it.

Hancock and Nick were doing their best in trying to lure the Deathclaw away from Nora. They were covering each other during reload times and placing strategic shots around the legs, particularly close to the kneecaps in hopes of crippling it. Nick was behind the thing and Hancock came out from cover, drawing its attention while the detective reloaded, dodging out of the way while it swung its powerful tail in his direction. Nick rolled on the ground into a crouch and let off a round of shots. Turning, the Deathclaw saw Nick and dove for him, barreling down the synth and picking him up in its massive clawed hands.

"NICK!" Nora screamed. She got up and ran towards the Deathclaw, gun firing as she did. She steadied her arms and was careful to shoot around Nick as the monster snarled in his face and tried to tear at his body. Nick had an arm free and was trying desperately to fight back, throwing his all behind random placed punches and kicks.

A shotgun ran out and the creature shrieked, slamming the synth into the concrete and turning its attention to Hancock. The ghoul had the opportunity to shoot it point blank in the knee, the shell shredding at its thick hide and causing the Deathclaw to drop down.

"Come on you ugly fuck!" he yelled, backing away to get it away from Nick. "I'll tear you down myself!"

The creature moved in Hancock's direction and Nora ran to Nick, dropping her gun and placing his head on her lap. She looked around the battlefield and noticed the red laser shots being fired and hitting the Deathclaw in the back of the knees. X6 was closing in on its position fast, his location only visible if you really concentrated on the shimmering silhouette.

Hancock was firing off shot after shot and dodging attacks. He had successfully drawn the beast away from Nick; but he was quickly running out of road to run down. They were closing in on section of the city with a large, collapsed high rise apartment and a demolished overpass; making anywhere around the blockage impossible and Hancock felt a little fear creep in. He continued his assault; shells falling at his feet, and the Deathclaw finally paused and stumbled back. He was able to put the final bit of distance between himself and the creature before it gained its footing again. Hancock put two more shells into the barrel and looked up just in time to see the Deathclaw lowering itself to the ground, preparing for a lethal lunge.

"Come on asshole! Come on!" Hancock screamed, reloading his shotgun as the monster began to move. He raised the barrel and let off another round, this time with enough clarity and closeness for the bullets to fragment and shred into the creature's face.

The Deathclaw reared up, forgetting about its attack as it rubbed at its face. Hancock stared at it in awe, the power of it radiating and hitting him like a ton of bricks. He wanted to run, he knew he should run, but he just couldn't. He watched as the killing machine before him flailed around and he tried to make his feet move, but they refused. It wasn't until he saw X6 magically appear on the things back that he finally got feeling back in his legs.

"Hancock!" X6 yelled as he struggled against the Deathclaw. "Get to Nora, now!"

Hancock stumbled sideways, keeping his eyes on the synth as he fired his laser rifle repeatedly against the creature's head. He pulled a small metal ball from his pocket and Hancock recognized it as the pin was pulled, making Hancock run as fast as his now fully aware legs would take him.

"Grenade!" he cried as he got closer to Nora and Nick. "Get down!"

His warning was cut short by a loud BOOM! and a high pitched ringing dug into all of their ears. Hancock hit the concrete roughly as rocks and smoking debris fell around him. He looked up and saw Nora covering Nick through the smoke, her back turned to him. He groaned at the effort it took to pick himself up off of the pavement, his muscles already aching from the fight. Hancock finally stood and he spit the blood from his mouth, trudging over to Nora.

"Hey Nora, you okay? How's Nick –"

Quicker than he ever suspected she could still be, Nora whipped around and aimed her pistol in Hancock's face.

"Whoa! Whoa! Easy!"

"Sit down John."

Hancock raised his hands in front of him. "Come on Nora, I know that situation was intense but –"

"Sit. Down. Now."

He recognized the cold, dead look in her eyes. She meant to shot him if he didn't comply. Hancock stopped his advance and slowly sunk to the ground, keeping his eyes locked on her at all times. He glanced just behind her and saw Nick slowly sitting up, rubbing at his head and pushing a tattered flap of his fedora out of the way. Nora turned when she heard Nick groan, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Nick! Oh my gosh, your face! Are you okay?!"

 _'So it's a face flap, not a hat flap,'_ Hancock thought to himself and he couldn't help the small grin that appeared on his face. He let out a small chuckle.

"Its fine," Nick insisted as Nora's hands were instantly on him, trying to reapply the piece of lose, synthetic skin. He cursed after she tried a few times to reattach it, with no success. "Looks like I won't be wining any beauty contests now, huh?"

Nora shook her head. "I have to go find X6. Are you well enough to watch John?"

Nick glanced at Hancock, who waved in return. "Yeah," he said. "I think I'll be okay."

Nora nodded and headed over to the large, smoldering pile of bones, bricks, meat and blood while Nick rose and walked slowly over to John. He was fiddling with his skin flap, exposing his lower metallic jaw when Hancock pulled out his cigarettes, offering one to Nick. The synth took it, gladly, and lit up, drawing the smoke in deep. After a nice, long exhale, he stared at the white stick in his fingers and shook his head.

"What were you thinking, John?"

Hancock stood and stretched. He felt like absolute shit, but he wouldn't acknowledge it out loud. Hell, he was sure no one would care if he was bleeding out on the pavement at this point. He looked off in the distance to where Nora was sifting through the damage to find her courser. He felt awful about bringing on the fight, but he had to admit that the adrenaline rush was well worth it.

"I just want to get this over with as fast as possible, Nick," he sighed, puffing on his own cigarette.

"By killing us all in the process?"

"Didn't say I didn't make a mistake, now did I?"

"Come on, John," Nick urged. "You can't be acting like this out here. We may still be the same old shit starters we've always been," he took a long drag and pointed in Nora's direction. "But she isn't. Nora's in her sixties now, John, and she can't keep up with us anymore. She can hold her own, oh boy, she can definitely do that; but something like what we just faced? She'd die, John. I hope you understand that."

Hancock kept his eyes on Nora. He supposed Nick was right. Time wasn't nice to anyone who wasn't synthetic or ghoulified. Nora had aged, and a part of him just didn't want to admit it. It was a problem he had been facing for over the last twenty years as all the old familiar faces were leaving, dying, or aging. Magnolia had left for a new life, Fahrenheit had gotten older and left, MacCready had died long ago from radiation poisoning, and now he was faced with Nora aging as well. It threw John into a harsh reality of having to constantly say goodbye to the people he cared about, and it made his heart ache. Had he really been in _this_ much pain for this long?

"Nick!" Nora called. "I found X6! Can you come and help me?"

Nick eyed Hancock. "Don't move, don't touch anything, don't even _breathe_ until we get back."

Hancock obeyed, waving Nick away and he watched Nora as they hoisted X6 from the rubble. He was angry at himself for making such a rookie mistake, but the thrill of being out of Goodneighbor, adventuring again had gotten the better of him. A big part was how Nora affected him. He still didn't agree with Nora's choices, he _definitely_ didn't agree with her and Nick's close relationship; but in order to make this trip work, he'd have to put his feelings aside and play by Nora's rules. The people they were after were extremely dangerous and Nora was right about keeping them confined. The only way he'd ensure they were confined to Goodneighbor, however, was if he played by the rules.

"Now Nora –"

Hancock's train of thought was interrupted by a sharp pain on his jaw and an explosion of stars in his vision. He stumbled back, falling to his knees and cursing. He spit out a large amount of blood and sneered. He was about to let Nora have a rather large piece of his mind, until he felt the cold barrel of her pistol between his eyes. His blood ran slightly cold when he heard her cock it.

"Nora –"

"Shut up," she said flatly, pressing the gun harder into his head as if to emphasize her point. "No more talking."

"Nora!" Hancock heard Nick yell. "Don't do this!"

 _'She's fuckin' serious…'_

"Nick, what did I say? I told you I was going to kill him. All it would take is one wrong move. Well," she pushed the gun even harder and Hancock winced. "Here we are, you fucking idiot."

"Nora, just listen –"

"Why, John? Why bother listening when you clearly don't? You just run off like a fucking rookie into unknown danger and you just… you just…"

Hancock heard her voice crack and he dared to look up at her. He only saw for a second, but he noticed the glistening in her eyes and his heart wrenched.

Quickly, though, Nora composed herself. "And now, because of _you_ , X6 is missing his fucking right arm!"

Hancock peeked around her and noticed the courser sitting next to Nick, being bandaged and given multiple stimpaks. John had to catch a quick laugh that nearly escaped him. The sight was slightly comical, he had to admit, watching the synth trying to reestablish his center of gravity.

"Nora, I'm sorry," Hancock finally said. "It's just… this isn't easy, you know? I…"

Nora felt her resolve falter slightly, her heart skipping a few beats when she heard the pain in Hancock's voice. Slowly, she dropped her pistol and sighed, rubbing her temple. She walked in a circle a few times, and let out an exasperated sigh. She frowned at Hancock and finally offered her hand, helping him to his feet.

"You can accompany us to Cabot's _only_. After that, you go back to Goodneighbor and prepare for your 'guests'. This is not up for debate." With that, Nora turned on her heels and began to march over to X6 and Nick.

"You're going to need all the help you can get!" Hancock shouted at her.

"I can't have you helping us after the injury you sustained!" she called back.

Hancock frowned. "What injury?"

BAM!

Hancock fell to the ground again, cursing and holding his bleeding arm.

"FUCK YOU, NORA!"

But she just grinned. "Payback's a bitch," she mumbled. She took the med kit from Nick and took his place next to a barely conscious X6. "Go patch him up," she told Nick, not meeting his judgmental gaze. "We leave within the hour."


	9. Chapter 9

Apologies for the week-long gap. Wicked flu came over me. Short chapter this week to roll in with two longer chapters in the next two weeks. Happy reading!

Chapter Nine

When Roland had said the police station was well fortified and defended, he wasn't joking. The tall, brick building was built on top of a mini overpass with a terraced parking lot of three levels. A junk fence lined each level with enough turrets to outfit a small army lining the outside fence. Multiple searchlights scanned the area, bright circles illuminating destroyed and rusted out police vehicles and road debris.

V and the others were still far enough away that the darkness concealed them. Roland and Jones had given them the night to rest and most of the day to stock up in town with food, first aid and ammunition. They had set off towards the station just after dinner, as the sun was beginning to set. She and Rob had left the others with the caravan a mile behind them at an old abandoned coffee shop and told them to stay put until they returned. If they hadn't made it back by sunrise, V and Rob had told them to continue on to the Commonwealth without them. They had until sun up, giving Rob and V around eight hours to do what needed doing.

Roland and Jones scouted ahead, beginning to lower their stance and keeping their guns at the ready. They motioned for Rob and V to do the same, which they did, closing the distance between the four of them easily with a few strides. Roland had the disadvantage of a limp, and keeping up with him and Jones was not an issue.

Rob kept his voice low and nudged V. "Can you see anything other than the turrets? Any guards along the wall? Bots? Mines?"

V concentrated her eyes and activated her night vision. She zoomed in as much as her synthetic eyes would allow and scanned the area carefully. Along the wall were heat signatures, human forms of red and orange and yellow blurs slowly walking about the premises. There were hints of blue and green outlining the weapons they carried, either slung across their backs, or resting in their hands. V scanned the ground as well, searching for any small disturbances in the earth to signify armed mines.

"Rob…"

"What is it? What do you see?'

"I'm picking up about twenty men patrolling the wall. They'll be easy enough to pick off. The turrets can pose a bit of a problem due to their numbers. But Rob, they've place mines next to _every single vehicle_ in the vicinity of the parking lot. Once we're up those first set of steps, we'll be walking into a death trap."

Rob frowned. "We better tell those two so we can make some sort of plan to get in."

The two hurried their pace and couched behind the skeleton of an old car V couldn't even recognize. Roland and Jones were one car over and nodded to Rob and V. She took the opportunity to run over to their cover and settled between the two men.

"There's minefield in that parking lot," she said. "One mine for every car."

"Well, fuck," Roland spit on the ground.

"How the hell are we going to get past a minefield undetected, Roland?" Jones asked. "One wrong move and this whole place is going to up in a blaze of glory."

Rob cursed. "That seems like a bit of overkill, don't you think?"

"Not necessarily," V was staring at the station, her eyes scanning over the entire construct. "Most pre-war police stations are fortified steel, brick and concrete. Big stations like these will even have a bunker in the basement in case of emergency. The bulk of their gang will probably be down there, with patrols of men on the man and upper floor. It's safe to say that most of their weapons, ammunition and valuables will be down in the evidence lockup in the basement."

Roland raised an eyebrow at V. "How do you so much about pre-war police stations? Are you a Gen 1? Is that a pre-war body that you're in?"

V hesitated only for a moment. "Sure."

Roland picked up on that moment, but chose to let it go for now. There would be time for questions later.

"Look, Roland," V began. "I know you're leading this, so I just want to ask permission to deal with the outside threat myself before we all go in? Twenty guards will be nothing for me, if I'm quiet. Then, I can locate their computer and disable their turrets. You guys can safely come through the minefield afterwards."

Rob nodded in agreement. "V knows what she's doing."

Roland eyed them both, carefully assessing the situation. Going in full throttle would be suicide, and he knew that. He would never have been able to keep up with a full assault anyways, due to the limp he had. However, he also wasn't comfortable letting a stranger that he didn't trust go in alone.

"Jones, you and dreads stay here until we either give you a signal, or you hear gunfire. If gunfire happens, try to get as many of those bastards as you can before their reinforcements show up. Then run."

"Roland?"

"Get to town as quickly as you can. Get them out as fast as possible."

Rob nudged Roland's shoulder. "What's the signal?"

Roland thought for a moment. "We'll turn off the searchlights, as well."

With that, V and Roland left cover and took off towards the station. They dodged in and out between cover and tried to stay as silent as possible. V kept her night vision activated and kept scanning the perimeter for any signs of guards outside of the walls. She could hear Roland's limping and his heavy breathing behind her, so she ducked behind the next car mere feet from the outer wall and waited for the man to catch up. He sat next to her with a loud thump and began to catch his breath.

"You okay?" she asked, genuinely concerned for his heart. "I _can_ go in alone. Trust me, this will be over quickly."

But Roland shook his head, swallowing hard. "Just getting a bit too old for this shit, is all."

"That leg won't hold up. We've travelled too far without your support."

'Just give me a minute, goddammit," he puffed painfully, readjusting his position. After a few more moments, he nodded at V that he was ready to go. She was skeptical, but she got up anyway and took off for the final leg of the trip. Roland followed behind, and she made a mental note to slow down for him.

When they made it to the wall, the two of them hugged the concrete closely and began a slow and deliberate perimeter sweep, keeping in mind to make as little noise as possible. There were voices above them as they circled the outer edge, and V found herself holding her breath whenever they got too close; once or twice a guard would peek over the wall and she'd have to pray the darkness was enough to conceal them. At one point they did find a access door, but after a jiggle of the handle, they realized it was locked. V and Roland both put their weight behind it and rammed it once or twice, but to no avail.

"It must be barricaded on the other side," Roland said, frowning at their luck.

"Let's keep going then," V replied, wanting to leave the area in case anyone heard them trying to break the door down.

After making a full circle around to the other side, V realized she would need to make the remaining trek alone.

The wall they were confronted with was completely bare. There we no access ladders, there were no entry doors or safe places to climb. The junk wall - for what they were - were built with precision and V had to take a moment to admire how well put together they were. Most settlement walls were put together haphazardly with scraps of wood and metal hastily fused and nailed together. They were easy to break into or tear down completely. These ones, however, we built using reinforced steel and concrete, and she couldn't help but wonder where they had gotten the know how to engineer such a wall. She looked back at Roland and frowned.

"Looks like the only way is over," she said.

"Well fuck," Roland cursed. "Now what do we do?"

"I have an idea, but I'm not sure you're going to like it," she replied. Roland stared at her, waiting for her plan of action, so she told him. "You can keep watch back at the overturned tanker with the others. Now, you _need_ to trust me, or this will never work and we'll all end up dead. I can make it up this wall; I can, with your distractions and aid, take out most of the guards and disable the turrets. You just need to trust me."

Roland looked annoyed. "And how the hell are you going to make it up there?" he asked, pointing upwards.

V grinned. "I'm not like other synths."

She could tell that Roland was conflicted. Hell, she was asking a lot from him, she knew that. He barely knew her or her group, only that she could kill people in efficiently bloody ways and that she wasn't human. There was a lot to distrust right there, and asking to go in alone was taking a big leap of faith on his part. However, if he really wanted this mission to succeed, he'd have no choice. Other than an impossible full frontal assault, there was no other way except her way.

Roland sighed, removing his cowboy hat and wiping away the sweat on his brow. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

As V crept along the outer wall, she silently scolded herself for putting her friends in this situation. Her anger had been modified by Alistair to make her a relentless killing machine whenever he required it from her, but out of his grasp it only became a huge hindrance to her everyday life. She had never been taught how to control it, because why would she need to when she was with him? Anger had become her purpose, and now she didn't know how to stop it. God knew she tried, but there was just something about the blood, the screams, the power that gave her such a rush that even chems couldn't match.

' _And look where it got you, idiot.'_

V used her enhanced agility to climb the first wall with ease by jumping from the top of an old rusted car roof to the ledge of the outer barricade. She kept herself low to the ground once she had pulled herself up and she scanned the area. There were two guards on the top tier of the walls on a corner closest to her. If she didn't take them out, it would be all too easy to alert the others and be overwhelmed with opposition. Quickly and quietly, she cleared the space between the walls easily, traipsing carefully to avoid being spotted. The top of the inner most wall would require a perfectly timed jump to clear, but V was sure she could do it, but she'd have to be quick – she could hear some men coming up on her left side.

V planted her feet firmly on the top of the wall and took a deep breath. After a moment to focus, she took three long strides and jumped. She easily cleared the wide gap between the walls and grasped the edge with the top half of her body, swinging her legs up and rolling to her feet. The two guards next to her fumbled to their feet, obviously surprised by the sudden intrusion; but V made quick work of them, removing her swords and slicing their throats before they could utter a sound.

From behind her, V could hear the sound of bodies falling to the ground and she turned. Just across the gap she cleared, three guards lay dead. She peered off into the distance and smiled. It was nice that she had someone to watch her back.

* * *

Roland clapped Jones on the shoulder. "Nice shot!"

Jones grunted, but Rob was sure he saw a slight smirk on his face.

"So, V's going in on her own?" Rob asked.

Roland nodded. "We're to cover her, take out as many men on the wall as possible, and she'll disable the turrets. We assess that there are only four entrances: the front door, the rooftop door, a side entrance – which is locked – and one well-hidden emergency escape. She will go in through the top, and we are going to advance through the front and side entryway."

Rob frowned. "How the hell are we going to navigate through that mine field?"

Before Roland could reply, Jones pulled back the flap of his jacket to reveal ten grenades. A devilish grin crossed his face as Rob's eyes widened.

"Gonna blow it all up," Jones said.

"Whoa! Whoa! Won't that, like, cave in the police station?" Rob asked, his voice raising an octave.

Roland shook his head. "The station is reinforced to withstand multiple blasts. This will damage it, no doubt, it will be extremely damaged; but we will still be able to go in and help her clear out the place." Roland shifted his position behind the tanker as Jones let off a few moer shots with his sniper rifle. "If our timing is right, we should be able to meet on the main floor before descending into the basement."

Rob sighed a breath of relief and smirked at Roland. "Thanks man. Thanks for trusting us enough to let V do what she kind of does best."

The cowboy stared Rob dead center in the eye, his face grim and serious. Rob felt a chill creep up his spine at that look and he shivered involuntarily.

"I don't trust you two as far as I can throw a super mutant. One slip up, just on, and I'll set these babies off," he pulled his duster back to reveal another ten grenades, "taking you, her, jones and myself out together with the rest of Markman's crew. So you better hope your synth's plan goes through without a hitch, because I'm prepared to die to keep my town safe."

With that, Roland turned back to Jones and continued to watch V's progress as his partner picked off raiders one at a time.

Rob's heartbeat raced and cold sweat rolled down his back. He suddenly found himself praying for daylight, and hoping they would be alive to see it.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The benefit to being a sort-of-synth, V found, was that hacking into computers was as easy as tying a shoelace.

Not that V had ever needed to hack into computers in her pre-war life, but she was pretty sure she had computers skills now that could rival any seasoned hacker in the Wasteland. Her fingers flew across the keyboard at a superhuman speed as she coded her way past the turret's simplified security measures. Within seconds, she disabled the system and took the weapons and the searchlights offline.

"That should help them out immensely," she mumbled to herself. In the background, she could hear random gunshots and thumps of bodies falling along the walls. V felt satisfied that the three men could go from here, and she climbed her way to the rooftop of the building where the access door was. She hung from the edge and peeked over to se if any guards were patrolling the door. After a quick sweep, she noticed that only one man stood between her and her entrance into the station.

And he was sleeping.

V grinned at her luck and pulled herself up, silently creeping to the chair the guard was slouched in. She took out her combat knife and quickly slit the man's throat, not bothering to wait until he bled out to continue on. V took a deep breath, placed her hand on the metal handle, and opened the door, letting herself inside.

* * *

Rob waited patiently for Jones' signal before rising from their vantage point. The man was an expert marksman, and he had done his fair share in killing off the patrol along the wall, making Rob grateful that for the time being, they were on the same side. Finally, Jones turned to both men and nodded, smirking at the result of his work as he took out one more guard with a _pop!_ of his rifle.

"Well done," Roland clapped him on the shoulder. It was then that the searchlights suddenly went out, sinking the station into darkness. Roland nodded to Rob. "No, go out there and check if she's shut down the turrets."

Rob nodded without hesitation. Of course the man would send V's companion. If for any reason the plan went south and she didn't shut down the guns, he'd be turned into a human sieve and Roland would be able to retreat with Jones. So, he stood confidently and strode out from behind their cover, chest out and head high. He took a few slower steps out and forward, the evening wind picking up gently, and he stopped just outside of the first landmine barrier. There, Rob waiting for the bullets to come and strike him down.

A good five minutes passed with Rob swaying and dancing in the same spot, trying to set off any motion detectors. When nothing happened, Rob released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding and smiled. Roland and Jones came up from behind to join him.

"Good job," Roland said, trying to map out the landmines to the best of his tracking ability. He knew the explosion they would make would be big, probably big enough to do a far bit of exterior damage to the building; but it would throw off Markman and his cronies. He just had to hope the explosion wouldn't damage their only way in, or they would be shit out of luck to help V inside.

"Okay Jones, take two grenades and throw them over the fence to the left, don't pull the pins. You, take the right and keep your pins intact. With any luck, you won't hit any of the landmines with them, but loft them gently over the wall," Roland handed Rob two grenades. "I'll throw one here in the entrance and run for cover and I suggest both of you do the same. After the initial explosion, try to watch for patrol stragglers or anyone who may emerge from the exits to check out what's happening. Then, meet me here and we'll go in together. And watch for any fucking shrapnel that decides to fly at you!"

They all agreed and went on their way. Roland closed his eyes, said a prayer, and took a steadying breath. He zoned in on his target, a spot between two mines, and focused. He'd have to hit the spot just right so as not to set off the explosion prematurely; he'd need those precious few seconds to hobble to safety. Luckily, he was a pretty good shot when it came to throwing grenades, and doing it underhanded was even better to increase his odds of success.

After he was sure Rob and Jones had gotten into position, Roland pulled the pin, took another breath and chucked the grenade. Then, he ran as fast as he could for cover.

The explosion caused by that many landmines seemed to rock the entire Wasteland. From all three vantage points, the men tried to watch the fire and light erupting from the police station, but debris falling from the sky prevented them from really _seeing it._ Rob looked up towards the sky for a moment and was mesmerized to see daylight shining momentarily in the night sky. Once the tremors had finally subsided, he began to run for the rendezvous point.

He felt relief to see Roland and Jones both at the entrance point, both relatively unscathed. Jones had a nasty gash down his head, and Roland was wiping the blood off of his face, but otherwise they were okay. Rob jogged up to them and reached for his gun. The fire inside the main parking area was hot as multiple cars were set ablaze from the explosion, and the smoke was thick and choking, but if they were fast, they could make it to the station entrance with little difficulty.

"We ready to go?" Rob asked.

The two others nodded. Roland pulled out his shotgun and Jones his rifle, and the three of them walked quickly and carefully into the smoke and fire, staying mindful of the flaming debris around them. Rob's eyes watered and he squinted through the blackness, keeping his eyes to the ground in case any landmines had decided not to detonate after all that fuss. All it would take is one wrong step, a rock being kicked in just the right way to set off any hidden mines and possibly maim or kill them; and Rob decided he liked his legs just where they were, so he kept vigilant.

After a few more moments of coughing and walking (really, it was more like stumbling, but Rob would refuse to admit it), the men finally came across the splintered double doors. Roland went forward first, placing a hand on the doors first to check the temperature, then, he placed his ear on the wood, waiting silently for a few moments for any voices on the other side of the door. Finally, he motioned for Rob to open the door, and the young man tried; but of course, the damned thing wouldn't budge. Rob pulled hard on the knob, trying to force the door open, but to no avail. He cursed.

"Explosion must have damaged the hinges," Jones mumbled.

Roland sighed. "Right then, on the count of three."

Three pairs of shoulders lined up and rammed the door, forcing it open and sent the men stumbling into the room.

"Fucking hell!"

The all fell in opposite directions, Rob banging his shoulder hard against a desk near the entrance. He yelled out in surprise and pain and grabbed his shoulder, looking around the room with his gun haphazardly aimed in the air. He scanned the room while Roland and Jones moaned and gained their feet again, and Rob saw V five paces to his right, sprawled on the floor.

"Shit! V!" Rob crawled clumsily over to her, his shoulder screaming at him whenever he placed any weight on it. He ignored it and grabbed V's arms, giving her a slight shake to try and wake her up. "V! Wake up!" he yelled, and gave her face a light slap.

She groaned and her eyes fluttered open. "All three of you? Really?"

He stood and offered his hand, which she gladly took, and pulled her slowly to her feet. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said as they dusted off. "The door was really stuck."

"Good to see you're keeping up your end," Roland said, a smirk crossing his face. "I'm impressed. Whoever created you, well, they knew how to create a weapon, that's for sure."

V ignored his probing remark. "The floors above are clear, as well as this floor. The evident lock up is below, correct?"

Roland nodded. "I'm sure that's where Markman's strongest men will be. We'll have to stay on guard and watch each other's asses down there."

"I'll take point," V said. "I can see further and clearer, and I'll be able to pick up their heat signatures." She grinned. "Doesn't hurt that it takes a shit ton of bullets to take me down, either."

"Can't argue with that," Jones agreed.

"Watch for falling debris," V warned as they readied themselves. "That explosion messed this building up good. I got knocked off the second floor by a wooden beam. It didn't feel too good."

Rob couldn't help his hopeful thoughts. "Maybe the men downstairs got buried in the rubble?"

"Highly unlikely," V replied. The neared the steel door that would lead them into the basement, and she shoulder checked to make sure everyone was ready. Once all three nodded their go ahead, V pushed the bar on the door and they entered the stairwell.

"Oh god! What the fuck is that smell?!" Rob gagged and covered his nose and mouth with the collar of his stained shirt.

V quickly smacked him in the chest. "Shh!" She warned Jones and Roland as well, watching them follow Rob's lead and covered their faces. V rolled her eyes, but did the same. The smell in the basement was thick and made her think of rotten meat, making her eyes water and her throat close up.

For a few moments that felt like an eternity, they waited, expecting there to be thundering footsteps approaching, but nothing came. They all noticed a strange feeling in the air, something off – yet familiar - about that basement that they couldn't quite put their fingers on. V didn't register any heat signatures, so she took a few cautious steps down the stairwell, keeping her back up against the wall as she went. She held her handguns up as she approached the first corner and for a moment, she waited, slowing her breathing and waiting for any sense of movement. Slowly, she peeked around the corner, expecting to see the beginnings of an ambush…

"Oh… Oh my g..." V stammered and quickly turned away from the hallway, covering her mouth. She retched a few times, her stomach churning, but was able to compose herself as the others ran down to investigate as well.

Each of them reacted in relatively the same way. Rob vomited in the corner, while Roland and Jones fought the intense urge to follow suit. V was able to settle her stomach enough to dare another peek and she found that once her eyes fell upon the hallway, she wasn't able to take them away.

At one point, the cinder block walls had been painted white. She knew that by the color of the walls up the stairwell they had entered. Down the hallway, though, in the direction they were going to go, the walls were caked in red and black gore. Severed body parts were strung about as if the men in the hallway had been torn limb from limb, stacked boxes and crates were smashed, with torsos of men being impaled on the sharp wooden boards, and entrails of human remains were blown about the corridor. There were traces of bullets lacing the floor, empty shells sitting in puddles of blood and holes trailing the wall and guns discarded on the floor; and the overhead lights flickered, giving the macabre setting an extra dose of horror.

The whole scene gave V a deep, dark feeling and she felt her panic rise. There was very little in the Wasteland that was able to do what had been done in this hallway. There were creatures like mutated hounds that, in large numbers, could tear through a group of men easily, but not without casualties. Deathclaws could also leave behind this kind of carnage, but it would have left more of a mess, whereas this attack seemed planned and calculated. There was no forced entry point for an animal to get in, meaning that the men here had let in whoever did this.

V only knew of one person who could be capable of this kind of carnage; and she had been busy on the outside trying to get in. A feeling of utter fear and dread filled her as she made an educated guess on who did this.

"What happened here? What the hell could have done this?" Rob whispered to V, his gun raised and ready to fire.

V gulped as the realization sunk in, her skin breaking out in a cold sweat. "It was Alistair."

"He can't, though. No way, V. We watched him walk away after he thought he killed us back home. Plus he didn't have your… abilities."

She shivered. "I can feel him, Rob. I can't really explain it, but I can feel that he was here."

"Hey! What are you two whispering about back there?" Roland demanded.

"Nothing," Rob protested. He began to offer an excuse to the two men, but V interrupted, deciding it would be best to warn them.

"You have to go now!" she nearly shouted, her voice on the edge of frantic.

"What are you on about?" Jones asked, annoyed.

"It doesn't matter," V replied. She stepped towards them, her whole body shivering from the feeling of Alistair being near. "You aren't safe here, and you need to leave. He'll kill you if you don't."

Roland frowned. "Who'll kill us? What's she ranting about?"

But Rob backed her up. He saw firsthand just how dangerous Alistair Crowley could be when he had his unbreakable hold on V. If he had found a way to do this on his own, or if he had the means to make another one of her, they could all be in some serious danger.

"She's telling the truth," Rob said, standing next to V. "The man's name is Alistair Crowley. He's who made V into what she is now; and he's dangerous. You guys need to get out of here, and you need to warn your town."

Roland raised his hand to slow them down. "Whoa, we aren't going anywhere. Makman is just down this bloodies hallway, and I'm not missing my chance here."

"He'll already be dead," V protested.

"Well, we won't know that until we see for ourselves, now, will we?"

V growled, her anger rising. "Look, I'm not trying to fool you, I'm just – "

"Look missy," Roland cut her off. "I don't care if it's Markman, if it's this Crowley figure, or an army of Deathclaws in the lockup; it's where I'm going. Now, the deal was for you two to see this through to the end with us. Is this no longer the case? Are we going to have a problem here?"

V frowned and clenched her fists.

"Counter offer," Rob piped up, noticing the severe shaking in V's arms. "You let Jones here escort me back to my family while you and V go on ahead. Half and half. We'll go back to town and wait for you, and you and V should be more than enough to take down whatever is behind that door."

Roland took a moment to think. He hummed and frowned. "Give me a moment." He pulled Jones aside and they started talking.

V, in turn, pulled roughly on Rob's arm, glaring. "What do you think you're doing?" she whispered harshly. "You're going to get them killed!"

"IF Alistair was here, V, don't you think he would have let you know before we stumbled on _this?_ I think he came, did whatever he had planned to do, and a left. Beyond those doors is probably a warning of some sort, or a test. At the very least, this way we can keep the family safe."

"But what if he's there? What if he gets control of me?" V protested, her voice panicked. "What do we do then, Rob? Please, don't let him take me, not again. Oh god… please not again…: she trembled and held on to his arm, shaking.

Rob patted V on the arm and stared intensely into her eyes. "No one is going to take you away from us, trust me. This is the only way we can safely follow this through. IF there is another synth beyond the door like you, you can fight it better without me in the way to be used as collateral." He squeezed her hand and leaned in closer. "And, if by any chance Alistair is there, you run. You run so hard and fast to get away and don't look back. Run north towards the Commonwealth, and we'll meet you there. But, you can do this, V. You're more than capable."

She took a moment to steady herself, then she nodded. She looked over Rob's shoulder at the companions. "Hey! It's okay, Roland. We'll go ahead. It's best that we split up from here."

Roland looked skeptical, and Jones frowned at the thought of leaving his partner behind.

"It's okay. We can handle whatever is beyond that door," V assured them, forcing her smile, because she needed to believe her words just as much as they needed to. She looked up at Rob. "Take care of Evan; make sure he and Callie make amends. If we are about to die, I'll find a way to notify you. Watch the sky over the station."

Rob nodded and V walked past him and stopped in from on Roland and Jones.

"We aren't splitting up," Jones growled.

V unsheathed her two swords and let them rest at her sides. "It's the best way. If things go south, you'll need to keep the town safe. Hopefully, there'll be enough time to warn you. Trust me," she stared deep into Roland's eyes to push her truth, "If Alistair is behind these doors, the less people here to see him, the better. We need to continue on alone; Jones can get Rob and his family back to Brockton Pass safely."

It took a few moments, but finally Roland nodded. "I'll trust you."

"Roland," Jones pressed, lightly punching his arm. "Let me stay. You should go back. Your leg – "

"I'll be fine," Roland clapped Jones on the shoulder, smiling. "Go on. We shouldn't be too far behind."

V could tell that Jones didn't like the plan, but he eventually nodded and walked past her, glaring. She watched him leave with Rob, her heart pounding, nervous to see if it really was Alistair in the lockup. She turned to Roland and gave him her best amused look.

"Box of puppies, that one is," she said, pointing back at Jones before he rounded the corner to leave.

Roland barked out a laugh. "He means well. He just doesn't express emotions all that well."

"I dunno, I think he has anger down to a science."

They headed down the macabre hallway and Roland turned serious as they got closer to the door. "If this Alistair is the one behind this, what do I need to know?"

V's response was simple. "Just run. Run to Jones and Rob, and get to Brockton Pass as fast as you can."

"Is he really that powerful?"

She locked eyes with Roland, her gaze cold. "He made _me_ that powerful."

The door to the evidence lockup was electronically locked, and it took V a few minutes to hack the code. When the metal door slowly swung inward, she was surprised to see how clean and undamaged it was.

"He must have been alone…" she mumbled to herself.

"Maybe they aren't here at all?" Roland offered.

The evidence lockers were in relatively pristine condition, rust was only just beginning to form on the edges of the locker doors. The walls were lined with steel shelves packed full of boxes with old dates and case names scribbled on them. A few desks were lined up near the back, each with a computer and random office supplies on them. V kept her swords up as they slowly walked down the middle of the room.

"Do you think you can get the lockers opened?" Roland asked, inspecting the numeric keypads on the evidence lockers. "Looks like you might be able to hack them open from one of those terminals."

V nodded and put her swords away. She booted up one of the computers and began to work on disengaging the locks. She let herself get lost in the random sequences of numbers and letters. After a moment, she heard the numerous clicks of locks being opened and she smiled.

"Great," Roland said, opening the first locker. "Now, let's get everything out and leave as fast – "

A sputtering cough came from a far corner of the room, and stopped Roland mid-sentence. Immediately, both had their guns out and ready for an attack. Roland and V eyed each other, and V stepped towards the noise slowly, motioning for Roland to stay behind her. The cough continued, coupled with a few grunts and sighs while they drew near. As they rounded a row of steel shelves, V noticed the slightly bloodied man on the floor and propped up against the wall, holding his stomach and sweating profusely.

Roland peered over her shoulder and frowned. "That's Markman."

"R… Roland… heh… well ain't this your…. lucky day…" Markman said through labored breaths. He coughed again and blood slipped from between his lips, spattering the floor. V noticed the red stains covering his hands and shirt and saw the blood seeping out from the wound he was trying to contain. He was dragging out heavy and ragged breaths as he struggled to talk. V approached him slowly, keeping her gun up on the off chance that this was a trap. She knelt in front of Markman and, keeping her weapon trained on him, she gently pulled his hands away to assess the damage.

There was a gory gap just below his rib cage and another chunk missing from his side. Markman had been holding on to keep pressure on the wounds, but V knew it would only be minutes before he bled out. There was nothing neither she nor Roland could do to help him now.

Which meant Alistair had been here, and could still be close by.

"How long ago did he leave?" V asked.

Markman panted and spit out more blood from his mouth. "Not long…. He left after… after he felt you coming… After he – "

He suddenly went into a coughing frenzy and V helped him apply pressure to the wounds.

"Were you working for him?" she asked. "How did you find me?"

Markman struggled, but managed to bark out a laugh. "You think that…. bastard lost track of you?" Blood sputtered from his lips as he spoke, some hitting V in the face, but she paid no mind. Markman continued, "He's been f… following you ever since you escaped. He's studied you… V… and he's obsessed."

She frowned. "Tell me something I don't know."

Markman grimaced. "He came to me to… hunt you down… but he-he already knew you'd come… to Brockton – killing my… my men… was his experiment to see…" he trailed off and his head sagged slightly. V panicked and pressed on his wounds, hard, waking Markman with an agonizing scream.

"Jesus…" Roland mumbled, looking away. Even he had a hard time thinking Markman deserved this.

"What experiment?!" V pressed. "What is he planning to do?!"

More blood erupted from his wounds and mouth, but Markman was able to speak, but his voice was growing fainter. "T-To make you stronger… to make… more synths… He used us… s-so stupid. My men… _my fucking men…_ "

His cough got worse and his body began to spasm. V nudged him more to bring him back, desperate for answers. Her motions were frantic and she was almost screaming in frustration until a loud gunshot rang out and she cringed away from Markman, covering her ears. When she looked up again, she saw the man slumped over with a hole in his head.

V turned in anger and saw Roland holding a pistol that was still smoking. She glared at him and shot up, getting in his face and smacking the gun aside.

"Why'd you do that?! What the fuck, Roland?! I needed more answers!"

"You weren't going to get them from him anymore!" Roland shouted back, holding V's wrist as she tried to hit him. "He wasn't going to last any longer, V! I had to put him out of his misery!"

"He's a fucking criminal!" she screamed, stomping her foot. "He doesn't deserve mercy! He helped a madman and look where it got him!" Feeling her anger reach its boiling point, she took a moment to breathe and steady herself. Attacking Roland would obviously do no good, and V had to prove that she could control the rage that grew out of control inside of her. After a pause, she looked up at Roland, calmer. "He was my only chance for answers. Now, I'm not closer to finding Alistair and killing him then I was before. And now I learn that he's known about my travels this entire time!"

V shuffled over to an old metal chair, suddenly feeling extremely tired and defeated. She plopped herself down like a ton of bricks and hung her head, sighing. All she wanted now was for the floor to swallow her up and to be done with it. She had been running for so long that she had fallen into a false sense of security. It was stupid to think her creator wouldn't do anything and everything to keep tabs on her, and now her family was going to be in danger, all because of her.

She shook her head and laughed sadly. "What's the point of near immortality, if I can't be free?"

It was as if a light bulb went off in Roland's head. He had been trying to piece things together, trying to figure out this group, and now it was making more sense. If what she wanted was to be safe, he was pretty sure he could at least offer her up some help – given that she had rather selflessly helped him and his town.

"So… this guy's got some sort of control over you?"

V nodded. "I was a musician before all of this," she waved her arm around. "Alistair brought me to the Vault before the bombs fell. He had… some sort of serum he would inject into all of us that gave us unnaturally long lives. For decades, he ran tests and experiments on all of us – some sixty odd people – in order to create his 'perfect specimen'."

Roland frowned. "Perfect specimen for what?"

"He was obsessed with human evolution; with immortality. He wanted us to evolve beyond disease and death. I think he initially thought he was humanity's last hope after the war; but he turned twisted, depraved. Alistair would have done anything, hurt or killed anyone who could get in his way, just to see his mission through."

"So you were… in a Vault, _not_ the Institute?"

"I'm looking for the Institute," V replied. "I'm not a synth. Well, not… fully a synth. I have a lot of synthetic things about me; I don't fully understand it, but I'm essentially human."

"How?"

"I think he transferred my consciousness into a synthetic operating system. Then, he replaced my organic brain with it."

Roland sat there, stunned. All of this seemed like too much to process, too much to handle. Everything V told him seemed to come from a science fiction novel, and he wasn't sure how to comprehend it. She had been locked in a Vault for nearly three hundred years?

"Why you?" he asked. "Assuming you _are_ telling the truth, and that you _are_ the only one of your kind, why only you?"

V's eyes glossed over as she looked back in her memories. Things seemed fuzzy, thoughts were bumping into each other and mixing in a blurry cocktail of images that made no sense. A high pitched ring suddenly let loose in her ears and she groaned, grabbing her head and doubling over. Roland grasped her arm and fell to the floor clumsily with her, trying to get a hold of her.

"Whoa! Hey! It's okay, V. Just breathe. Concentrate on my voice."

After a few moments of pain, the ringing subsided and V could breathe normally again. She turned her blue eyes up at Roland, silently pleading for help that he couldn't provide. His heart ached when he saw just how tormented she really was, and had to look away for a moment to think clearly.

"It does that every time I try and remember my past. Other than a few spare bits of memories here and there, my past life is a mystery. I know I played music, but I don't know if I had a family, or where they were when I went to the Vault. I don't remember clearly all the things that took place in the Vault, and I don't remember why Alistair singled me out. That's why I'm trying to get to the Institute. I'm hoping they can help me figure it out; maybe get my memories back or unlocked or whatever they'll do."

Roland nodded. "The Institute can be a helpful or a harmful place; but they may be the best suited to help you. I have a friend in the Commonwealth, a man I used to work security for; he'd know best who to trust and who to avoid."

V took Roland's calloused hand in her own flawless, pale ones. "Please," she begged. "I'm out of options, and I'm out of places to run. I need help, Roland, please. Help me so I can help my family."

Roland pushed his hat back and scratched his forehead. "Let's get these supplies back to the Pass and we can discuss this further from there."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

 _Hancock was never one to worry about Nora unless there were very physical and visual reasons to be worried about her. She was smart, strong, capable, and Hancock knew she had willpower and a type of grit that set her apart from so many in the Commonwealth. So unless she was battered, bruised and bleeding, he had little to concern himself with._

 _So it threw him for a loop when Nora had come back from the Institute and immediately locked herself away in her workshop down the road from Sanctuary._

 _He had tried to get to her, tried to talk to her and coax her out of her funk. For three days he brought her food that she refused to eat, water she refused to drink, and friends she refused to talk to. So today, he was arming himself with a sturdy crowbar and determination so he could free her from her prison._

 _So there he stood, the summer wind blowing hot on his back, his red, white and blue belt flapping at his side, and his crowbar glimmering in the sun. Hancock approached the door and knocked again, hoping against all hope that Nora would finally answer and let him in._

" _Go away!" came the voice on the other side._

" _Nora!" Hancock yelled. "Come on! Open the door!"_

" _No, John! I still need time!"_

" _Time's up, love!" he replied. "It's time to come out and talk to me!"_

 _No answer this time, and Hancock groaned in annoyance. After another minute of waiting, he decided to act. Three good strikes with the crowbar made a nice hole over the inside lock. Hancock jimmied the crowbar in and was able to pull the lock off with the metal tool. The lock dropped to the floor in a loud, metallic_ cling! _noise and he heard Nora curse from the other side._

" _Ready or not!" he yelled and threw the massive garage door open, the wooden door clattering upwards as the garage pulley yanked it up._

 _The garage was humid and incredibly hot. Hancock saw Nora across the way with just her shorts and a tank top that was sticking to her and nearly transparent from her sweat. She was hunched over her desk, next to her table she used to modify her armor pieces, her fiery red hair taking on a much darker tone due to the excessive perspiration. Hancock approached her and pulled up a chair, placing himself right next to her. He looked around and saw papers strewn about, empty Nuka Cola bottles and liquor bottles, along with half eaten food packs. The place was a mess, and Nora couldn't seem to care._

 _She refused to look up at him, even with his closeness, so Hancock decided to go first._

" _Love what you've done to the place," he mused. When she didn't respond, he tried again. "So, what is it that you're working on?" Still no response. Hancock sighed and put his hand over Nora's, finally making her pause. He leaned in, gave her his most sincere voice and said, "Hey, come on Nora, talk to me. What's going on? We're all really worried about you up at Sanctuary. Preston is nearly going insane, not being able to send you to new settlements and all, and even tough old Cait has been pacing."_

 _Nora kept still, her face turned downward as she kept her eyes on her schematic. Hancock shook his head and sighed._

" _Look, if it's about the Institute – "_

" _Shaun is there." Nora finally spoke, her tone flat. Hancock's eyes grew wide and he moved in closer now._

" _You mean you found him? Nora, that's..." he trailed off as he rescanned the room. No kid, empty liquor bottles, nowhere near enough consumed food for three days, and a very tired looking Nora. He frowned. "That's what's bothering you, isn't it? You didn't bring him back, so you must have left him there." He grabbed Nora's hands and half forced her to look at him. Their eyes finally met and Hancock's heart broke to see the despair written all over her face._

 _After a long breath, Nora composed herself and spoke. "When Kellog took Shaun, I was refrozen and left in the Vault, right? For what we thought was only around twelve years, right?"_

 _Hancock nodded._

" _John…" Nora took another breath to steady herself. "Shaun is the Director of the Institute. He's the Father. And he's sixty years old."_

 _Hancock felt his blood run cold, despite the intense summer heat. He sat back and frowned, running his hands over his head and trying to figure out what to say._

" _Nora… I – "_

" _I'm going back there, John."_

 _That made him even more confused._

" _What?"_

 _Nora sighed and stood up. She began to pace the workshop, fidgeting with her fingers as she did. "They've made such amazing progress, John; scientific advances that would blow you away. They've done things down there that I've never thought was possible in this wasteland."_

" _Like kidnap innocent people and replace them with synthetic copies?" John asked skeptically._

 _Nora shook her head. "That's unacceptable, I know. Trust me, that is something my son and I got into a very heated debate over." Nora leaned against the garage doorway and looked out onto the brown and desolate land, ruined by the radiation still looming over their planet. She sighed. "He's my son, John, and I have to try and reconnect and understand all of this. It's so confusing and frustrating and my heart is hurting like it did the first day I came out of that Vault. The Institute took my Shaun from me, and I want to go back so I can learn how to make them pay for it."_

 _Hancock stood and walked over to Nora, gripping her shoulders and holding her close to him. He turned her towards him and shook his head. "Nora, you're stepping into very dangerous waters, here. I don't think I like where this situation is headed."_

" _He's my son, John," Nora implored. "I have to see him again. I have to get more answers. I just…. I needed time to be alone to put my thoughts in order." She looked up into his dark eyes, praying he would understand. "Please don't try to stop me, John. Please know that I have to do this. I need you now more than ever."_

 _His heart broke at the utter anguish in her words and he pulled her into his chest, holding her close and kissing the top of her head, stroking her hair as he did. "Anything you need, love. I'm right here for you."_

 _As he looked off over the hills towards Sanctuary, John couldn't help but notice the looming feeling in his chest..._

* * *

When they finally reached Cabot's home, the throbbing in Hancock's arm had dulled. They made fairly good time, considering their wounds from earlier; but they were coming up on lunch time and Hancock could feel his stomach begin to growl.

"So, you think Cabot's got anything to eat in that place?" he asked.

Nora looked back at him. "Didn't you bring anything?"

"Well, yeah," he replied. "But I'm thinkin' this swanky bastard might have something unique to eat in there. Besides, he won't be eating anytime soon, and I think I've paid for enough today," he motioned to his arm, blood soaking through the bandage slightly. "We shouldn't let anything in there go to waste. And besides, aren't you starving by now?"

Nora was about to say something in response, but her own growling stomach answered for her.

"Ha! Told ya!"

Nora sighed, staring up at the two-story old colonial home. "I guess you have a point," she finally said.

The group entered the immaculately kept home and their noses were immediately assaulted by the stench of rotting flesh. They held their shirt collars or other fabrics to their mouths to try and breathe as best they could, but the smell was strong.

"I'm sorry, Director, I didn't think about removing Cabot's body from the premises," X6 apologized. "He's in the living room, but the staircase."

They ventured further into the house, much to their sense's despair, and spotted Jack Cabot lying face up near the staircase, just as X6 had said. Nora shuddered at the sight of the decay taking over his body. His corpse had filled with gas and the buildup had bloated him almost beyond recognition. Nora could see where his chest had been fractured, a deep concave had settled in the middle of his ribcage you could see easily with his puffed up body. His white lab coat lay open and his feet were sprawled out, probably due to falling backwards.

"Well," Nick mused from behind his trench coat collar. "Someone's seen better days."

"That smell… Goddamn and I thought _ghouls_ had it bad," Hancock gagged as he tried to gain composure.

Nora shook her head. "This isn't right. We should do something for him – bury him at least." She turned away from the body and focused on Nick. "Could you and John…?"

"Say no more," Nick said, clapping Hancock on the shoulder. "We'll take care of it."

Hancock groaned and lightly batted at the torn skin on Nick's jaw. "Okay flappy, but you're doing most of the heavy lifting."

As Nick and Hancock struggled with Cabot's body, Nora sat X6 down to rest while she got to work on scrubbing the gore out of the carpet. Cabot's house had been kept in pristine, prewar condition due to his and his family extended lifespan. Their appliances were still operational, making boiling water an easy thing to obtain. Nora got to work and put a pot of water on the stove to heat up while she brought out sponges and towels and Abraxo cleaner from the pantry. As she waited for the water to heat up, she searched the kitchen for all the non-perishables they'd be able to take with them. Her stomach growled louder as she brought out cans, boxes and jars of food; but she put it out of her mind. There was no way they were going to eat with that stench in the house. Once the water was ready, she dumped the cleaner into it and got to work on the floor.

Outside, Hancock and Nick struggled to drag Cabot outside. The sun was hot as it rose to its noon position high in the cloudless sky and even Hancock was beginning to sweat.

"Fucking Courser couldn't have done this when he came here last time?" Hancock complained as they set Cabot down in the yard.

"Quit complaining and let's get some shovels," Nick replied, walking around the house to a tool shed in the back. Hancock followed, but continued to mutter his complaints under his breath.

They dug mostly in silence, taking only short breaks to puff on their cigarettes or take a drink of water. Hancock found himself reminiscing of his and Nora's first encounter with Cabot. He remembered Jack being an eccentric man who believed in both science and magic. He claimed to be over four hundred years old, surviving due to the magic in his father's blood that had been manipulated into a serum for immortality. Hancock had found him odd, never fully believing or understanding his fascination with the occult until he saw it for himself.

They had traveled to an abandoned hospital and met Cabot's father - a man by the name of Lorenzo who was quite regal and carried himself as such. Hancock remembered seeing the man behind a wall of glass in a high security containment unit and being underwhelmed by him. He certainly had _looked_ normal enough. It wasn't until he had broken out of his containment that Hancock had witnessed just how powerful he really was. Lorenzo had tried to sway Nora, tried to offer his blood to her in exchange for baiting and killing the Cabot family; but she refused. Instead, she and Hancock had to fight for their lives in order to kill the maniac before he could kill Jack and escape to the Commonwealth.

Hancock should have known then and there that their relationship would never survive. Nora wouldn't take the immortality offered to her, and there he was, a near immortal man…

A mound of dirt hit Hancock in the face, bringing him back to reality. He cursed and wiped the gritty black and brown soil from his face to see Nick staring up at him from the deep hole in the ground.

"Where the hell did you go?" he asked.

Hancock sighed and took out his tin of Mentats, placing one under his tongue and putting the tin back in his pocket. "Just thinkin' is all," he said, and he hopped down into the hole to help dig. The sun above was beating down now, and both men removed their jackets to try and cool down. After what felt like hours, Nora finally came out from the house, three beer bottle clinking in her hands, and bed sheets hanging off of her arm.

"That's probably good enough guys," she said holding up the bottles. "I'm sure you're thirsty and hungry. Food is almost ready." She dropped the sheets beside Cabot's body and helped to hoist Nick and Hancock out of the grave. They took the beers offered and all three drank their beers gone in a matter of seconds.

Hancock let out a long, loud belch and wiped his mouth. "Man, I'm getting used to cold beer. It definitely tastes better out here in the heat."

Nick stared at the bottle for a moment, then smiled at Nora with his now lop-sided jaw. "Not bad," he nodded towards the house. "How's X6?"

"Resting," Nora sighed. She motioned towards the house after silently burping. "There's more where that came from inside. Get Cabot in the grave and come in. We'll bury him tonight after the sun sets and stay here tonight. I still haven't poked around for any evidence yet and I'm sure we're going to find something to point us in the right direction in New York."

Both men nodded and got to work gently wrapping up the body as Nora left for the house.

Hancock rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Okay, Nicky-boy, let's get this guy wrapped and delivered real fast-like. I'm starving!"

* * *

Nora had made an amazing stew out of Mirelurk meat and vegetables. Even Nick and X6 had to try some just to see what all the fuss was about. After airing out the sickening smell of the house as best they could, eating became slightly easier, and Hancock was having his fill of dinner and booze. Nora finished her bowl and sat back, sipping her glass of wine.

"You should be eating more," Hancock doted. "You'll need your energy for the rest of the trip."

She shook her head. "I'm good. Appetite's gotten smaller in my old age." She tipped back her glass, finished the red wine and stood. "I'm going to go search in Cabot's lab for anything that might help us. X6, you need to rest. We'll be taking you back to the Institute tomorrow to have your arm replaced."

X6 looked up from his seat, his brows furrowed. "Director, I don't think that's necessary. I can still fire a pistol or hand gun. I can keep up."

But Nora shook her head. "I can't risk losing my best Courser – and my friend – to come along without an arm. The Institute already has your spot reserved to be repaired _tomorrow_. I'll be bringing Q1-33 with me instead."

Though X6 was extremely well-versed in hiding his emotions, Nora knew him long enough to pick up on when he's bothered. The tiniest twitch on his face told her that he didn't care for that idea. X6 was her main Courser when she traipsed about the Commonwealth and he always hated it when she went anywhere above ground without him.

Nora smirked. "Do you have an issue with my order?"

"I don't trust Q1-33," he stated simply.

"Well, I can't very well bring you with me into unknown territory when you're missing your _arm_ , X6," Nora explained. "I expect you to respect my decision, not to like it. Now, go get some rest."

Nora turned on her heel and escaped to the downstairs lab, leaving the three men alone in the kitchen. Hancock had just finished the last of his meal and was lighting a cigarette.

"Sorry brother," he apologized while exhaling. "Really, I didn't mean for that to happen. I fell pretty fuckin' awful about it."

Then, X6 stood and marched over to Hancock's chair calmly, keeping his perfect posture. He leaned over the ghoul slightly and even through is highly reflective sunglasses, Hancock could see him glaring.

"Should anything happen to the Director while I'm away, I'll hold you personally responsible," X6 said flatly. "It's because of you that I need to be repaired and she has to go on without me. If she comes to any harm, well, you'll wish I had _only_ ripped off your arm by the time I'm done with you."

Hancock nodded, swallowing. "I feel what you're gettin' at, I do," he said. "But Nora's strong. She can handle herself for a little while without you, don't you worry."

X6 didn't respond. He simply walked past Hancock to the couch to lie down and rest.

"Well," Nick cleared his throat. "Let's go check out the rooms. There must be something to find up there."

As they walked up the stairs, Nick noticed something peculiar on the old afghan rugs. When they reached the second level hallway, he crouched down to inspect his findings while Hancock stood aside.

"Bullet holes in the floor," Nick mumbled. "Did Cabot's struggle start here?" He scanned the area for any signs of a struggle, but found none. Frowning, Nick stood and continued down the hall to Cabot's room.

Hancock leaned in to check the other rooms upstairs. He remembered Cabot's sister and how much she would party in her younger days, and he hoped to find a good stash of chems in her room. He found it and peeked inside, amazed at its pristine condition. All the furniture was original; the bed was clean, the sheets laundered and free of holes or moth balls. Hancock walked in and began to search desk drawers next to her computer, but to no avail. He tried her dresser next, lingering a little too long in her underwear drawer than necessary…

' _Not as if she's going to complain,'_ he thought.

Jackpot. A tin box under her panties that wasn't even locked. Hancock grinned to himself and pulled the box out, lifting the lid. Inside were a mixture of syringes and pills, all things Hancock recognized as a way to get a party started. He greedily hoarded the contents into his coat pocket and left her room in a hurry.

"Hey, Nicky-boy, you find anything in there – " Hancock peeked around the corner into Jack Cabot's room and stopped talking. His eyes widened as he saw gory bits of what must have been X6-81 strewn across the room.

"Well… uh… ain't this an added bit of disgusting?" Hancock said, standing behind Nick.

"It seems X6-81 opened fire on his assailant in the hallway and the struggle between them ended here. The fight must have begun downstairs until Cabot was killed? Or possibly Cabot told his to run?" Nick mused, lost in his own train of thought. "But why wouldn't he have protected Cabot downstairs? What was more important up here?"

"I don't know, but there's a fuck-ton of letters and maps and science shit everywhere, Nick. It looks like someone went through it pretty roughly," Hancock shuffled through random pages and began to walk around the room as Nick investigated documents more closely. Hancock kept his hands in his pockets, not wanted to touch anything that might be important and keeping his distance from any piece of X6-81 that blocked his path of meandering. He kept his eyes on the pictures on the walls, most being paintings of random scenery: waterfalls, meadows, old country barns. One painting that caught Hancock's attention, though, was the one of Jack Cabot's family.

The painting was well taken care of, the paint still vibrant as if it was created only a few months ago. Jack – portrayed as a young boy and his sister, Emogene – a toddler, stood in front of their parents. His mother, young, attractive and blond, sat regally in a plush, red velvet chair while her husband, Lorenzo Cabot stood behind her. His hand rested on her shoulder and her hand lightly touched it. They looked happy; even through their stoic faces, they looked happy It was hard to imagine the young boy in his uniform would grow to lock his father away for centuries in order to use his blood for his own selfish means.

Hancock sighed and was about to walk away, until he noticed something off about the picture.

"Hey Nick, come here. I think I got something for ya."

Nick strode over and stood next to the ghoul, eyeing the painting with him.

Hancock pointed to the lower right corner of the painting. "Does that corner look a little… uh… worn to you? Compared to the rest?"

Nick moved in closer and nodded. "It does." He ran a finger over the corner and frowned. "Something's under here. Give me your knife."

Hancock handed Nick his knife and watched as the detective gingerly pried at the frame, gently pulling the canvas back.

"Is that a button?" the ghoul asked.

Nick nodded. "It is. Stand back." He pressed the button beneath the painting and instantly the frame swung outward, revealing a safe. Nick eyed the steel door and ran his hands over it, trying to find some sort of switch to unlock it. When he couldn't find one, he frowned. "How the hell do we get into this?" He turned and scanned the room. "No sign of a computer. John, can you check with Nora if there is a computer in the lab? I'm pretty sure this lock can only be disengaged by a computer."

Hancock, who was in the middle of a Med-X dose, smiled. "Sure thing." He walked casually to the doorway and leaned out into the hallway.

"NORA!"

"….WHAT?!"

"IS THERE A COMPUTER DOWN THERE?!"

"… YES! WHY?!"

"CAN YOU HACK IT AND SEE IF YOU CAN DISENGAGE A LOCK? WE GOT A SAFE UP HERE!"

Nick cringed and rolled his eyes. "Couldn't have just gone down there, could you?"

Hancock shrugged, grinning. "Thought never occurred to me."

Sighing, Nick watched the safe until he hear a click, and the small steel door swung open. "Just watch the door," he said. "Nora's already had to deal with cleaning up after Cabot. No need for her to see X6-81's remains, too."

Hancock stood by the door and lit up a cigarette. Nick turned his attention to the safe and peered inside. A metal briefcase was the only thing inside, so he carefully reached in and pulled it out. The case was in amazing condition and cool to the touch. There was a lock that Nick easily tampered with and the lid clicked, allowing the synth to open it.

"Oh my god…"

Nick's eyes shot up to see Nora standing in the room, just past the doorway with her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror and brimming tears. In the doorway behind her, Hancock had passed out and was lightly snoring on the floor.

"Fucking hell, John," Nick cursed to himself. He set the briefcase down and went to Nora, holding her by the arm as she sat on the partially gore-soaked bed. Nick watched her eyes wander around the room is disbelief, the tears glistening over the green irises, and he sighed. "I'm sorry Nora. 81 didn't deserve this."

Nora took a moment to gather herself, wiping away the tears the threatened to drop. She took a deep breath and exhaled. "It's okay. We'll gather what we can and bury him with Cabot. It's the least we can do."

Nick patted her arm. "Did you find anything in the lab?" He was desperate to get her attention away from their surroundings. "Anything we can use?"

Nora shook herself and frowned. "Some basic chems and ingredients – nothing of importance," she glanced at the briefcase across the room. "What's in there?"

Nick sighed. "Was just about to find out." He brought the case over to Nora and she placed it on her lap. "God ahead," he urged.

She opened the lid and a tiny mist of cold air escaped, giving Nora goosebumps. She stared at the contents – vials of the blood lined up and sealed neatly along the top side of the case. Nora picked one from its resting spot and rolled it in her hand, observing the cold glass with scientific curiosity.

"It's blood," she said matter-of-factly.

Nicked leaned in to get a look. "Is this what Alistair was after? This blood?"

"I'm not sure," Nora replied. "It would have been relatively easy to find, but I can't imagine what else he'd want."

"Unless he already took it," Nick pointed out.

"Well yes, there is that possibility."

A loud snore erupted from Hancock as he shifted slightly in his spot. Nora huffed, shaking her head. "Come on," she said, closing the briefcase. "Let's get 81 gathered up and get them buried before it's too dark outside. We owe them that much, at least."

* * *

Nora sat outside with Nick on some old wooden lounge chairs. Both were drinking beers from the house and sitting in silence, watching the sun set and the stars come out to twinkle. Nora felt relaxed, finally feeling at ease after a long and trying day. They had gathered X6-81's remains and buried them along with Jack Cabot's body. Nick had always questioned why Nora didn't simply recover their memory chips and rebuild the synths if they 'died'. Her response was always the same."

' _Most synths and coursers want to be as human as possible. That includes a permanent death. I may be going to hell by playing God as far as creation goes, but I'll never be the one to reanimate the dead.'_

"It was nice of you to give a eulogy," Nick said, finally breaking the silence.

Nora nodded. "Cabot was brilliant. A crazy bastard who totally did not _deserve_ a eulogy; but a brilliant mind nonetheless. My words were mostly for 81. He didn't deserve this."

After another swig, Nick asked, "Do you think Crowley is still in the Commonwealth? Would he have any reason to stay, or even any reason to go back to New York?"

Nora thought about that. She had been thinking about it ever since they had found that briefcase. Alistair used the blood to extend his life as well, but had stated to Cabot that he no longer needed it years ago. Why come back for it? If it wasn't the blood, what else could he have possibly need from Cabot? It was all very confusing, and it was making Nora's head hurt from trying to process it. So, she tipped her beer back to her lips and chugged it back, letting out a long belch afterwards, enjoying the immediate buzz the alcohol gave her.

"Always the lady," Hancock said from behind Nora's chair, making her jump.

"Nice of you to finally join us after your nap, John," Nick said, slightly annoyed at Hancock and his impromptu rest.

But Hancock just shrugged with two beers in his hands, both opened. "Guess I overdid it slightly on the Med-X; not like I was shot in the fucking arm or anything," he eyed Nora accusingly.

"Next time just don't be an idiot," she answered, unaffected by his guilt attempt.

Nick rose from his seat and stretched. "Well, I'm tired of hearing all the bickering for one day. I'm going in to run some diagnostics with X6." He walked towards the house, hands in his pockets. He called over his shoulder, "Try not to kill each other! I've done enough grave digging today!"

Hancock and Nora both scowled, but Hancock sat down in the free seat anyway, taking a long drink of his beer. The silence between them was long and awkward, but neither would leave before the other. Nora strummer her fingers on the wooden chair arm, while Hancock popped a Mentat pill under his tongue.

"Still the drug of choice, huh?" Nora asked, watching him from the corner of her eye.

He shrugged. "Can't mess with a classic."

The silence stretched on, leaving both of them feeling strange in their own skins. Decades ago, they could have sat out for hours on end, bullshitting back and forth, flirting, laughing; but now it was just weird. Nora coughed a few times and Hancock lit up a cigarette, taking in a deep beath.

"Hey John, can I bum one?" Nora asked.

The ghoul handed her the pack and the matches. He watched as Nora's thin but still delicate fingers took a cigarette from pack. He watched as she placed it between her lips and struck the match, the light illuminating her mature, yet still beautiful face. Again, he felt his heart skip a few times, and it made him look away into the distance, listening for the random gunshots ringing out into the night air.

"Remember that time we were cornered in the Quincey Police Station by all those gunners?" Nora asked through the smoke. She had a slight smirk on her lips as Hancock laughed, remembering the incident she was referring to.

"Shit," he laughed. "I remember we were cornered in that fucking graveyard, fighting for our goddamn lives, and then you tell me to hoist you over the stone wall. I remember thinking ' _Okay, good, we're gettin' out of here right quick'_ , and then you went over and didn't come back."

Nora laughed. "I was pretty bad and giving details under pressure. But admit it, my plan was genius."

"You led a gang of Super Mutants to us. Your plan was crazy." Hancock replied flatly, though he was beaming inside.

Nora laughed even harder. "It was… it was like a slow motion action movie! Ha! I came around the bend… ha ha!... with this horde of mutants on my tail… oh my god… and came in from behind the gunners! Your face… that look on your face!"

"It was the ultimate _'What the fuckity-fuck'_ moment for sure," he grinned, happy to hear Nora's laughter.

The silence settled in again as they recovered from their laughter. Both took another drag from their cigarettes, another swig of their beers, and smiled.

"Look, Nora, I'm sorry."

She gave him a curious look.

Hancock stared down at his bottle, feeling nervous; but things needed to start being said. He sighed and continued, "I was just thinkin' earlier about Lorenzo and that day we fought and killed him. I remember how he offered you the key to immortality, just like Cabot, and you refusing him flat out. Even though you knew I'd live far, far longer than you, you decided to decline and live a normal life. For the longest time, I was so mad at you for saying no. I had hoped that maybe one day you'd do _something_ to try and extend your lifespan, but you didn't. You chose Nate ultimately over me, and that tore me up and made me hate you for a long time, which was totally selfish and stupid. Of course your love for him would be stronger than your love for me. I'm sorry I was too bone-headed to realize it."

A moment of silence passed again, and Hancock felt as if he had let go of a thirty year weight he'd been carrying for all that time. He felt good. He felt like talking and getting out his feelings and thoughts could begin to mend the broken strings that once tied the two of them together.

"Is that what you seriously believe, John? That I love Nate more than you?"

The icy cold tone in Nora's voice told Hancock that maybe his choice of words was less than… appropriate.

Nora finished her cigarette, then stomped on it, digging her foot into the ground. She was angry. She knew Hancock meant well, that he was trying to make amends; but he really had no clue. Nora stood, straightened her skirt and lab coat and stared at Hancock. "For all that time we spent together, for all the adventures we've had, for all those long, romantic nights, _you still think I don't love you as much as Nate?_ " She threw her hands up when he wouldn't respond and groaned. "This was never about our love for each other, John! This was about your hatred for the Institute and how you let it completely cloud your judgement and your feelings!

"I tried all that I could to make it work! I was open about all the things I did there, I tried to explain time and time again my reasoning for joining them, but you'd have none of it!"

"I have my reasons!" Hancock finally shouted back.

"You're right," Nora crossed her arms. "You _did_ have your reason. You _had_ every right to hate the Institute for what it did under my son's leadership. You _had_ every right to be angry for what they did to your brother, to your people." Her eyes narrowed and she bent over, leaning into Hancock's personal space in a way that made him hot and uncomfortable at the same time. "But you have _no right_ to be angry at me. Not anymore."

Hancock felt his temperature rise; he was pissed, ashamed, embarrassed and hurt. He wasn't sure how to react to Nora's words. Hell, he wasn't even sure how to process them yet. He knew he had some apologizing to do, but he had no clue he had been angry for all the wrong reasons, apologizing for all the wrong reasons; and he had no idea about how Nora actually felt.

Until tonight.

And did she use the phrase 'love you' in the present tense?

He couldn't help that smirk that appeared on his face as he looked up at her, her green eyes ablaze. "You said 'love me', as in the here and now."

After a moment more of intense anger, Nora softened, chuckled, and relaxed her shoulders. She rolled her eyes and stared off over the horizon. It was late. It was time to rest.

"You're blind, John, because you choose to be blind. Open up your eyes and get some perspective of the world around you. You'll learn a lot. Trust me."

And with that, Nora walked away, back to the house, leaving Hancock to sit and digest her words.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The more time Roland had to see how capable V was, the more she amazed him. They had found numerous military duffel bags in the police station lock up, and she had loaded up four bags and easily swung them over her shoulders. She was now making the trek back to Brockton's Pass with all first aid, food, weapons and ammunition in tow.

"You sure I can't take one of those off your hands?" he offered.

V just laughed. She was breathing heavily and sweating noticeably, but she shook her head. "Trust me; it sounds worse than it is."

Daylight had broken over the Wasteland and they were finally within the limits of Brockton's Pass. Roland could see Jones at the front gate and he smiled. He knew Jones wouldn't have slept since getting back and must be exhausted. Roland made note to let him sleep as long as wanted for the next day or so.

As they got closer to the main gate, Roland's limp had begun to really take over, and he had never wished for his cane more than he did at that moment. Jones noticed their approach and Roland's limp and ran as fast as his legs would allow to them. He stopped in front of Roland, running right past V without notice, and embraced the old cowboy tightly. Roland winced for a moment, then smiled.

"I'm okay, Jones, I'm okay," he insisted. "Come on; let's help get this stuff into town."

Jones finally pulled away and noticed the four large bags slumped over V's back. He took two from her and led them to the gate, staying by Roland's side the entire time.

"Whole town's been on alert," Jones explained. "Got the gates chained and everyone hunkered in the hotel, ready to escape."

"Are my friends all right?" V asked.

Jones nodded in response. "Worried for you," he turned back and eyed her from head to toe, taking in how she carried the weight of two oversized and full military bags and snorted. "Not sure why, though."

V could only laugh.

They entered the Pass through the main gate, Jones pounding on the large wooden doors and two marksmen along the gate approving their entry. They made their way to the end of town to the hotel, and V felt a shiver run down her spine as she saw how things had simply been dropped and abandoned so that the inhabitants could get to safety. How easily things could have gone wrong for these people had she and Roland perished at the station, or if they allowed Markman to continue his reign of power…

' _Or if Alistair decided to come through…'_

V shuddered at the thought as they neared the hotel. The old city hall was renovated enough to double as a tavern/hotel and the main office for Roland and Jones to operate their… law enforcement of sorts. They had four remodeled rooms and an outfitted conference room to store all weapons, ammo and provisions. They would divvy up their winnings there, and discuss the journey to the Commonwealth.

"V! Oh my god! You're okay!"

As they entered the hotel, V was instantly greeted by Evan. He threw his good arm around her and she dropped the bags to hug him back, tightly. Over Evan's shoulder, V saw Rob and Amber watching from a distance, smiling. Even Callie, who was standing with them, had a softer expression on her face, though V was sure it was more for Evan than for her.

Finally, Evan pulled away and began dragging one of the bags without a second thought. "We all thought the worst when Rob came back without you. We've been up all night waiting for you."

"Here Evan, let me take that form you," Rob offered and took the bag from his brother's hand.

Amber swooped in and gave V a big hug. "They were worried, but I knew you could handle yourself," she said with a wink. "Come on, we've got a room on the third floor. Let's get you cleaned up and then we can all get some sleep."

But V shook her head. "No yet. We have a lot to discuss with Roland, plus, we need to separate our stock from the rest."

"There'll be time enough for that tonight," Roland said from behind the group. They turned to see the old cowboy clinging to Jones as he limped hard in the main lobby of the hotel. Jones helped him onto a barstool and Roland sighed, removing his hat with wiping the sweat from his forehead. Under the dim lighting, his scars and leather-like skin stood out even more, aging his drastically. V had a lot of respect for someone his age that had faced years of the Wasteland with noticeable difficulty; so she agreed.

Jones came up and took the bag she still held and Rob's and grunted to Roland.

"Jones will keep the bags in our office under lock and key. We'll reconvene for dinner and count out and split our findings. I'll tell you all you'll need to know to get to the Commonwealth as well, and then we can drink." Roland yawned and stretched, cracking his back. "But for now, I think we all need a long rest."

V nodded and allowed herself to be led upstairs to the third floor. Upon entering the doorway, V was pleasantly surprised to see their rooms were much nicer than the ones on the second floor. Though the beds and mattresses were still rundown, they at least had blankets and pillows. The furniture wasn't completely falling apart and there were bright, working lamps along the wall, making the neutral tones a little cheerier.

"Did we win the caps lottery or something?" V asked, amused when Evan rushed by her to claim 'his bed'.

Amber laughed. "Jones said we were to get the nicest rooms in the place, so here we are."

V looked down to her right and saw a stack of relatively fluffy towels and she nearly cried. She begun to reach out a shaky hand and touched the blue towels ever so gently; afraid that at any moment, she would wake up from this dream and be back at the police station.

"There's a shower room at the end of the hall," Rob explained. "Two showers in the men's room and two in the women's."

"I think they were empty when we came up," Evan said. "No steam was coming from the doorway."

A lump formed in V's throat. "I swear Rob, if you tell me we can go and have hot showers, I will kiss you right here and now," V turned to Amber, smirking. "Sorry, Amber, but this is happening." She walked over to Rob and draped her arms around his shoulders, jokingly trying to plant a kiss on his lips while he tried to dodge her.

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "The showers are warm at best. Go clean up, we already did. Then we all need to get some rest. We'll talk about the police station before dinner."

V didn't need to be offered twice. Their personal belongings had been brought in, so she rummaged through her pack and pulled out a pair of jogging shorts and a long sleeved tee shirt with a towel and ran to the bathroom to shower.

* * *

 _V opened her eyes to hear actual birds chirping outside of the window. She pulled back the incredibly soft yao-guai fur blanket and swung her feet over the bed, stretching out her sore muscles. It had been so long wince she had a decent night's sleep in an actual bed that it felt like her body forgot how to relax in a bed while she slept. V wiped the crusted sleep from her eyes and took a moment to get her bearings, quickly recalling her daring and bloody rescue and the hospitality that went along with it._

 _She rose and re-rolled her baggy sleeves of her oversized tee shirt to her shoulders and dislodged the wedged boxes from her backside. Looking out the window gave her a perfect view of the crops on the farm she had just stumbled upon. Rows upon rows of corn, razor grain, muttfruit and melons grew from the ground, while along the fence line tables had been set up for carrots and tato plants. There was a large patch of land behind the crops where three brahmin grazed on the sparse grass and lounged under a thicket of trees in the high noon sun. It was all very picturesque and peaceful out here, and all V could wonder was how they survived out here for so long without proper defenses?_

 _V's stomach mumbled, impatient with her and she groaned. She turned and left her room, clunking loudly down the stairs, her feet screaming at her with every step. She grew more cautious as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, nervous that there was no sound of voices or clunking and thumping of housework. She stood still in the doorway and listened, but it was only the chirping of birds and the mooing of the brahmin that she heard._

'Why would they leave when a complete stranger is upstairs?' _she wondered._

 _Her stomach growled at her again and she sighed, trudging across the floor to raid whatever they had in their cupboards to eat. There were boxes and tins lining the bottom cupboards and the bowl, plates and glasses were up top. V noticed the box of Sugar Bomb cereal and took it out, setting it on the counter as she reached for a bowl. After pouring an overflowing amount of cereal into her bowl, she began to inhale it, dry and without a spoon, her stomach thanking her with a loud groan._

" _We have brahmin milk in the downstairs – OW!"_

 _The instant V heard the voice from behind her; she quickly picked up the bowl and threw it at her attacker. It hit him square in the head and shattered when it hit the ground, leaving Evan sprawled on the floor, groaning in pain and confusion._

" _Oh shit!" V cursed and ran over to the young man, kneeling next to him, mindful of the broken glass around them. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"_

 _Evan seethed, sitting up slowly and rubbing his head. "Holy fuck lady! What the hell was that for?!"_

" _You startled me!" V exclaimed._

" _Well that seemed a bit excessive!"_

 _V waited until he took a few breaths and gave him a tentative smile. "I'm really sorry. You okay?"_

 _Evan checked his forehead for any blood and, thankfully, found none. The bowl would leave a nasty egg on his head, but otherwise, he was fine. Evan scanned the floor and saw fragment of glass and cereal everywhere. He looked up at V and smirked._

" _You gotta clean this up," he said._

 _V nodded. "No problem." She stood and offered Evan her hand, gently pulling him to his feet. "You got a broom anywhere?"_

 _After the mess had been swept and discarded, Evan poured V a new bowl of cereal and had her follow him. He led her down a set of steps into the cellar where cold air blasted up to them. V shivered slightly in her thin shirt and shorts, but kept it to herself. She followed Evan down a few steps and was amazed when he turned on a light overhead. Their cellar was full of canned preserves, meats, milk and beer. She had never seen any sort of refrigeration without power, but this was something else completely._

" _Your father built this himself?" she asked._

" _Yeah, before me and my sister were born. Every spring there are ice traders coming all the way from up north and they supply us with ice in the spring, and we offer building supplies and food as payment, as well as a place to stay. We get ten large blocks and keep them down here. They last through the spring and summer and are completely melted off by the fall – close to this time, actually, then the cellar stays cold on its own until next spring. I guess they did it centuries ago and he learned it through his dad." Evan talked casually as he brought out a small glass bottle containing an off-white liquid and handed it to V. "Here, cereal isn't cereal without brahmin milk."_

 _She took it and noticed him reaching for a beer bottle. V raised an eyebrow in questions. "A little early don't you think?"_

 _He shushed her and placed the bottle gingerly on his head, sighing in relief and V couldn't help the smile that spread across her face._

 _Once she had mixed her cereal in with her milk, V felt as if she had died and gone to heaven. It had been so long since she had enjoyed a breakfast staple like cereal, and she savored every bite._

" _So," she managed to mumble between mouthfuls. "Where is everybody?"_

" _They went to town to trade some crops and supplies for caps and other stuff," Evan explained._

" _And the trusted you alone with me?"_

" _You wouldn't wake up no matter what we did. For a while, we almost thought you were dead. After day two, though, you're breathing became normal and your temperature dropped. So, we thought it would be okay to leave me here to watch you."_

 _V stared at him. "I've been asleep for two days?"_

" _Almost three, if you didn't wake up by dusk tonight." Evan stared at how she ate so ravenously and he wanted to laugh, but wouldn't. He wanted to prove to his father that he took his opinion to heart and welcomed this woman. So, instead, he offered a distraction. "You ever played chess before?"_

 _V paused mid-bite and nodded. "Played it a lot in the Vault."_

 _Evan beamed. "Well, how about we pass some time, then? All the chores are done, so there's not much else to do around here." He stood. "I'll get the board set up; you finish up here and meet me out on the porch. It's a bit cold, but sunny and refreshing outside. So wear a sweater."_

 _He disappeared into the next room and V quickly slurped down the remainder of her meal. She made her way back upstairs and threw on the clothes that were left for her: a pair of dark jeans, a plaid button up shirt with a moth balled camisole underneath. The shirt was quite large, even or her tall and muscular frame, so instead of buttoning it, she tied it into a knot at the front. There was a knitted shawl on the end of the bed and her black combat boots sat on the floor, freshly washed. She slipped them on, tied back her long white hair, and we down to meet Evan outside._

 _The front porch wrapped around half of the house and had a long picnic table to the side. At the front, where she stood, there were multiple chairs lined along the wall and a card table to her right. Evan sat up at the table and had placed her chair opposite his. He was placing all the pieces of the chess board in place and looked up, smiling at her and offering her the chair to sit. She obliged, wrapping the shawl around her as a light fall breeze blew through._

" _Is it too cold?" Evan asked, noticing her shivers._

 _V shook her head. "It's fine. I'll warm up, and besides, it's a beautiful day today. Now, stop with the chit chat and let's play."_

 _V took her first move and smirked._

 _Evan shrugged, then bent over the table and made his move. For the first few minutes, their turns were quick as they set their pawns accordingly. Soon enough, though, strategy began to come into play, and their turns started taking a little longer, both falling completely silent as they calculated their moves. V noticed how Evan tried to spare every man on the table, wary to place them in dangerous positions where the risk of losing them was too high. She stored that information away._

 _An hour passed before their first game ended with V as the victor. Evan groaned._

" _I'm used to always winning. My family isn't this good."_

 _V sat with a smug look of victory on her face._

 _As Evan studied the board, he noticed her strategy. "You sacrificed all of your pawn and bishops. That's super risky, using them to protect your queen. The knight's movements are so limited, and you used your king just like your pawns!"_

 _V stood and stretched out the tightness in her back. "That's what they're on the board for, to use as shields for the queen. So long as you have a strong formation and you sacrifice your smaller pieces, winning is easy. You play defensively, and you do it well; but you retreat too quickly."_

 _He sighed and stretched as well. "Tea and a rematch?"_

 _V nodded, grinning._

 _As Evan busied himself in the house, V decided to walk around the perimeter of the place. She needed to get a good feel of where she was and how well it was defended. To see how easily the raiders had come and tried to take over, she guessed their defense was lacking, and as she walked around the house, she got a sense of just how right she was._

 _Their land was roughly one acre, stretching far behind the house and over half of it was filled with crops, and the rest with livestock. There was a well right behind the house and three water pumps lined up next to it – one built to be inside the house where the washroom was – and beside that, a large industrial generator hummed away, supplying power to the house._

" _What are you doing back here?"_

 _A hand touched V's shoulder suddenly and she grabbed it, throwing the man over her shoulder. He landed on his back in a loud_ oomph! _and V gripped his arm tight, snarling._

" _Shit! Shit! What the fuck?!"_

 _V noticed the familiar face below her and she stopped her attack, he eyes wide and full of shame. She stepped back and offered her hand._

" _Fuck, Evan, I'm sorry! Oh my god! I'm so sorry! You… you just startled me," she tried to explain, her face bright red from embarrassment._

 _Evan took her hand and slowly stood, grumbling something below his breath that V couldn't quite make out; though, she was sure she didn't want to._

" _I'm really, really sorry," she tried again._

'Make her feel as safe and welcome as possible…'

 _Evan heard the words of his father echo in his mind and he sighed. He forced a smile and shook his head. "I'm okay. Don't worry about it." He looked around the back of the house and frowned. "What the heck are you doing back here, anyway?"_

" _Assessing the safety of this place," V replied matter-of-factly. "You have a very prosperous piece of land here, so I wanted to see how well defended from attacks it could be, seeing as how the raiders got to you without much issue. I'll be honest; I'm surprised you and your family are still alive. You have no turrets, no traps, no alarms. How is it your father feels safe leaving you alone?"_

" _Hey, I'm only here because of you," Evan defended hotly._

" _And yet, you and you're family are still alive because of me."_

 _That pissed Evan off. He balled his fists and glared at her. "We've gotten along just fine for the nineteen years I've been here. We have each other, and we sleep just fine at night knowing we're safe. You may have saved us from a serious situation, but don't think you get to criticize how we've survived for so long."_

 _V was surprised at his tone. Her eyes widened for a moment until she realized her error. With a slight, apologetic smile, she softened. "I've offended you; I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just curious to know how you've held out so long in… less than ideal conditions. I'm sorry I was so abrupt. I haven't been around other people for… a very long time and it's easy to forget how to act."_

 _After a moment, Evan's shoulders relaxed and he smiled faintly. "S'okay," he sighed and pointed towards a shed on the left of the pasture. "We have three turrets in there, but they've been broken for months. I've tried to fix them again and again, but we're missing a bunch of parts."_

" _Why not get the parts in town?"_

" _They're hard to come by," Evan explained. "Meaning they're either too expensive when they_ are _in stock, or they're never available, and we aren't allowed to go scavenging. Dad says it's way too dangerous, even if we all go together. So now, they're in the shed, probably collecting rust as we speak," Evan sighed._

" _But you can fix them?"_

" _Oh yeah," he replied, his smile more natural and relaxed. "I've been fixing our machines since I was a teenager. I love to repair and tinker with stuff." He clapped his hands together. "Well, enough about that. The tea is by the chess board, and I'm itching for another round!"_

* * *

When V returned from the shower, she opened the door to one of their rooms quietly. Evan and Callie were asleep in the large bed, both curled on their own sides. A cot was set up a few feet from Evan's side for V to lie on. She closed the door behind her and tip toed to her bed. There was a fairly clean pillow at the foot and a blanket folded on top. She eased into the cot and placed the pillow under her head and the blanket over her body. The cot creaked under her weight and she tried to shift as little as possible as she made an effort to get comfortable.

"How was the shower?" Evan mumbled through the pillow covering half of his face."

"Sorry, did I wake you?" V asked, rolling to her side to face him.

"Nah," Evan grinned. "I just got into bed. Isn't running water fantastic?"

V laughed softly. "Oh my god, it felt amazing."

"You sure took long enough. There any water left?"

"Probably not."

"What were you doing for so long?"

"Thinking about you." Grinning, V reached out her pointer finger and pressed in gently to Evan's nose. He didn't react.

"That's weird."

She laughed a bit louder this time. "Remember the first time we really met? When your dad took the others into town and we played chess all afternoon?"

Evan finally opened his sleepy eyes. "How could I forget? You beat me up. Twice."

"What?! I only hit your head and flipped you-"

"I had bumps and bruises," Evan cut in. "That qualifies as a beating." After a pause, he continued. "You had me so freaked out that day; but I just knew there was something about you. Something told me you needed a friend of some sort. At least now you don't whoop my ass every time you get spooked near me."

V smiled. "I'm glad it was you who decided to make me family. You're my brother Evan, and I love you. I just… I really need you hear that."

Evan returned the gesture, his eyes drooping. "Me too. Now go to sleep! I'm so tired! If you love me, roll over and leave me alone!"

Rolling her eyes, but her smile still there, V rolled over and let sleep take her.

* * *

Everyone sat at the table in Roland's and Jones' homes, eating ravenously. It had be a long time since V and the others hadn't needed to make a meal for themselves, and V felt that food always tasted better when you didn't do the work. All over the table were plates of steamed vegetables, razor grain bread with brahmin butter, breaded radroach and brahmin steak with mirelurk pieces. There were ten bottles of wine on the table, uncorked, and V could tell by the flush of their cheeks that Amber and Callie had already had their fair share. Amber was starting to get flirty and handsy with Rob, making him turn beet red every time she brushed against him inappropriately. It made V laugh inside. It was nice to finally have a relaxing night after all they had been through.

"So, V, Evan tells me you all play instruments together. Do you play shows?" Roland asked taking a sip of wine.

V nodded and swallowed her food. "We try to trade music for lodging whenever possible. Not everyone takes us up on the offer."

"Must be nice to get that damn 'Jingle Jangle' tune out of your head, though," Roland laughed. He glanced around the room and nodded towards the corner. "I have a guitar over there. Do you have anything you could play for us?"

V was surprised by the request. Roland had only been personable to a point to get information from her, not just for the sake of getting to know them. She supposed she was able to see the relaxed side of the cowboy, now that the immediate danger had passed. Plus, for all that had changed about her, and for all that had happened to her over nearly three hundred years of life, must was her only constant. She still loved to play, and she was always happy to share. So, she stood and picked up the guitar a few paces behind her, the wood neck feeling wonderfully familiar against her palm. A moment or two of tuning, and then she began to strum a tune, adding her words soon after.

"You're a fire, burning up my brain

You can't be tamed for me

You struck a match and you left me to burn

It doesn't feel right

To fell the weight of your world, the weight of your world on my spine

You've had me going out of my mind…"

The way V's voice carried, and the way the guitar played its haunting tune made the room go quiet. Evan knew V had been writing a new song lately to help her through Alistair, but he hadn't heard it yet.

The melancholy tune brought tears to his eyes.

"And all the walls are caving in, and I feel you entering

I shouldn't give in, but I let you win

I let you in…"

There was no applause that followed when she finally stopped playing, but that was just fine for V. She simply put the guitar back where she had found it and picked up where she left off with her meal.

"That was beautiful," Roland finally said as he stared at her. "You have a gift, V, truly. Thank you for sharing."

She shrugged and smiled. "It's what I do when I'm not out killing and trying to survive."

Jones cleared his throat and nudged Roland.

"Speaking of which," Roland said, taking the hint. "Let's go and cash you out. I'm sure you'll all be eager to be on your way tomorrow."

So V and Rob quickly finished off their meals in jovial spirits and they followed Roland and Jones to the weapons cache. They spent the better part of an hour categorizing and bartering all of the cache they had taken from the police station. In the end, they ended up with five new guns, ammunition for all of their weapons, a fair amount of chems and first aid, and two weeks' worth of food. They even acquired some new clothing items: jeans, jackets, shirts and shoes that fit.

"A great haul," Roland mused. "Thank to you two, we were able to secure it and stay alive. Our town will be in your debt. And Jones, here, is appreciative of you keeping me alive, V. So, thank you for that."

Jones squeezed Roland's shoulder and nodded at V, his face a stoic as always. V smiled and nodded back.

"It's no problem," she replied.

Roland pulled up a chair and motioned for everyone else to do the same. Once all had found a spot around the long meeting table, he neatly folded his hands in front of him, turning serious.

"Now, about getting you to the Commonwealth…"

Rob looked surprised and turned to V, who kept her gaze on Roland.

"Any help you can offer would be beneficial."

Roland coughed. "Now, I can't take you there myself, and I can't spare Jones, either. We need to stay to keep the peace around here."

"I understand."

"You got a map?"

Rob quickly reached into his back pocket and pulled out their ragged paper map. The lettering was fading in spots, and creases were wearing out form being folded so many times; but it was still legible. It had the marking of their journey so far and Roland studied it for a moment, his eyes widening.

"You came from New Greenwich?" he asked.

"From the outskirts of town, a couple miles out. We had a little farm we all took care of with our father," Rob explained. "He passed away a few short months ago."

"My condolences," Roland offered. "Did it happen to have anything to do with this Alistair fellow?"

"Jeez, V, how much did you tell him?" Rob asked, annoyed at Roland's sudden knowledge of their lives.

"Enough," V replied hotly. "He said he can help us, Rob, and we're going to need it." She took a breath to calm herself; even after her death-like sleep, her nerves and patience were shot. She was still shaken from the information she had received about Alistair. All she wanted was to run somewhere he wouldn't be able to find her. The Commonwealth, she supposed, was the next best thing.

Roland pulled a pencil from his pocket and began to write instructions and pathways on their map. "You're going to leave the gates here and get onto route twenty eight north. Now, given the state of th route the _last_ time I traveled it, the journey should only take half a day with your caravans in tow to get to Milton. You'll know you're close once you go under the overpass, or what's left of it, at least.

"Now this," he said, marking a large circle on the lower west side of Boston, "is the Glowing Sea. It's one of the initial bomb drop locations and is still deadly to humans from residual radiation. The wildlife is mutated and strong here, the land inside the Sea is barren, and the outskirts suffer from frequent radiation storms. It settles a few miles north of Neponset trail, which is where you'll be heading to walk around the zone. You'll cross the river here, then go east on the trail.

"Be careful. The trail is home to a yao-guai breeding ground where the bears hibernate when it gets cold. They'll be stocking up on food for the winter, so don't be that food. Now, walk the trail until you get to the far east side and meet up with the train tracks. Head north as far as you can until you get to the Boston South Station. From there, Goodneighbor is only a quick walk north… right here."

"Goodneighbor?" Rob asked incredulously.

Roland nodded. "Just up old Congress Street there's a bright neon sign; you can't miss it. The whole journey should only take you a day and a bit, barring any altercations. Raiders do tend to watch the main roads, but you can usually spot them from miles away."

Roland handed the map back to V and she and Rob checked the route over. After a few moments of murmuring back and forth, both seemed satisfied with the path given to them.

"Thank you," Rob said. "Really, this is great."

Roland nodded. "When you get to Goodneighbor, you're going to ask for John Hancock. Tell him I sent you, and he should be able to help you out. He's got connections and knowledge that no one else in the Commonwealth seems to possess. If the Institute is what your end game is, he'd know best how to get there." Roland paused for a moment, then frowned. "Only… you'll need to be patient with him. I've heard he's not the man I left twenty years ago."

"What happened?" V asked.

"Not sure," he replied. "But if he hated the Institute before… he absolutely abhors it know, I guess. Lots of changes were happening when I left, and he was finding it hard to adjust to them. Don't know why, but just… be gentle with him."

V scoffed. "So get information about the Institute from a man who hates the Institute without actually asking about the Institute? That about sums it up?"

Both Roland and Jones nodded.

"Great," V replied sarcastically. "Solid plan, guys."

Roland raised his hands. "Hey, I'm just giving you the intel you need. Hancock hates the Institute, but he'll have the most information. Do what you can to gain his trust, and I'm sure you'll be fine." He stood, done with talking business, and stretched. "Now, enough talk! There's still wine to drink and midnight oil to burn! Let's celebrate our victory!"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"Boss. Hey, boss! You in here?!"

Hancock opened one groggy, sleep crusted eye and groaned. He had been up late into the night before, indulging in drink and chems until the sun was just barely peaking over the horizon. It had taken quite a bit to get him to the point of stumbling, but he got there just fine. After his last bottle of bourbon, he managed to wobble-walk his way back to the Cabot house and up the stairs to one of the creaky beds.

Now, Hamm was downstairs searching for him, and Hancock could hardly muster the energy to lift his head, let alone get up and find his body guard.

It took only minutes before he heard Hamm's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Each thump of his steps thundered in Hancock's head, making him wince.

"Boss!" Hamm exclaimed upon finding the ghoul in the bed, alive and somewhat well. Hancock growled and Hamm immediately lowered his voice. He approached the bed as quietly as possible. "Nick said you'd be here." He offered his hand to Hancock (the one with all fingers still intact) and helped him to sit up slowly.

"What do you mean 'he told you'?" Hancock asked, rubbing his head and cracking his neck.

"They stopped by early this morning," Hamm explained as he gathered his boss's hat, coat and boots form across the room. "Said they couldn't wake you up, so they had to leave you. I came as soon as they left."

Hancock heard the tone in Hamm's voice. The tone that said, _'I went out of my way to come to your aid, when no one else would'_ , and he shook his head. Of course Hamm had gone out of his way to come and get him; that was what Hancock paid him for. He thought Hamm had been around long enough to catch on to what his main body guard did and would do for him. He had definitely been around Fahrenheit enough in her prime to know the things she did for Hancock, and yet here he was; expecting some sort of praise to come from Hancock's mouth about traipsing to the north to come pick him up.

' _Got a lotta nerve, Hammy. Lotta guts, too.'_

For now, Hancock decided to ignore Hamm's comment, and instead, try to manage the pain throbbing in his head. He dressed, readjusted the American flag that he wrapped around his waist as a belt, and stretched. "Yeah, I guess I got a little crazy last night. Nothing a few chems won't solve," he took out his tin of Mentats and popped one into his mouth. "What time is it, anyway?"

"About noon," Hamm answered. "Sun's up about as high as it's gonna get."

Hancock quickly gave himself a dose of Med-X to ease his headache and sore muscles. After a few minutes of waiting to allow the medication to work, he sighed and smiled at Ham.

"Well, guess we better take everything we can carry back to Goodneighbor. I'm sure Nora left most of the irradiated stuff behind."

Sure enough, Nora had taken very little with her. Papers were missing from Cabot's lab – which meant nothing to Hancock – as well as a few first aid items, some bottled water and a few snacks. Hancock and Hamm found a few duffel bags in the bedrooms and were quick to load them up with food, liquor, chems and clothing. As they prepared to leave, Hancock looked around the house again. He had to admit that pre-war décor was growing on him over the years, and he considered coming back and possibly making this place his own.

' _Closest thing to an ocean front property around here,'_ he thought to himself.

"You ready, boss?" Hamm asked.

Hancock slung a duffel bag over his shoulder and nodded. "Let's get going."

For the first half hour of their walk, the Commonwealth was relatively quiet. The sun was shining brightly down on the two men, making Hancock groan and pull his hat down further over his eyes. The sounds of their footsteps only made his headache worse, the sound of crunching debris and foliage ringing in his head like an alarm clock you just couldn't turn off. He popped another Mentat into his mouth and yawned.

Then, they heard the scream.

Both ghouls dropped their bags into a nearby dumpster and cocked their guns, ready for a fight.

"Where'd it come from?" Hancock asked.

Hamm nodded in the direction they were headed. "Thattaway."

That made Hancock worry. They were only another hour from Goodneighbor. "Better not be one of ours," he growled.

The commotion grew louder and closer to them, and Hamm and Hancock crouched behind the dumpster, fingers lightly pressing on the triggers of their guns. Within seconds, a man stumbled from around a corner, tripping over his own feet as he looked behind him. He fell to the ground with a loud _thump!_ and knocked his head on a trashcan, creating a nice indentation where the impact happened.

Hamm watched him as he tried to gain his footing again. He leaned over to Hancock and whispered, "You recognize him?"

Hancock shook his head. "No, but he might need our help, regardless. Just keep quiet. I'll let you know if we continue on ahead or not.

Finally, they heard other footsteps approaching fast and the man began to get up and run – until a shrouded figure caught up and tackled him from behind. He then proceeded to throw numerous punches on his victim until his stopped trying to fight back.

"No more running for you! Now tell me where they are!" shroud yelled, his fists still flying into the barely conscious man below him.

"P-Please… someone… help me!" the beaten man begged pitifully, his voice breaking.

Shroud's accomplices caught up to him, both men were wearing long white scarves that covered their faces from the nose down with matching black jackets with a strange symbol sewn on the arm sleeves. Hancock couldn't quite make out what the symbol was, but he swore it looked a lot like the old Railroad seal. Both had their rifles aimed at the scuffle ahead of them, and Hancock could feel his fingers twitching over his gun.

"What do you wanna do, boss?" Hamm asked, noticing Hancock's body language.

"Hang on another minute…" he mumbled, his gaze locked on the scene a mere twenty feet in front of them.

"Think you can enslave innocent synths?! Think you can force them in fighting?! Into fucking?!" Shroud kept pummeling the man below him until Hancock decided enough blood was flying from the guy's face. He couldn't allow the brutality to continue anymore. He rose up from hiding and aimed his shotgun, Hamm following suit.

"Let him go!" Hancock shouted, aiming his shotgun at the shroud.

All three attackers turned in the ghoul's direction, guns up. The man on the ground could hardly move, and even from a distance, Hancock could see his jaw was misaligned and blood was seeping from his eyes and ears.

Slowly, the shroud raised his arms and stood. "Move along, friends. We have no quarrels with you."

"We ain't your friends, and you ain't gonna keep up that one sided fist fest," Hancock glared and bared his teeth. "So let me repeat myself only once; let him go."

A quick beat passed and then the shroud began to laugh. It was lighthearted and jovial, as if Hancock had just told a joke to an old friend. He waved at his accomplices. "Put down your guns, boys, put 'em down. No one needs to die today." He pulled back his hood and revealed a young face with blond hair tied back in a short bun and about a week's worth of facial hair growth. He had that rugged good-looking face that was slightly tanned and glowing with youth. The smile he offered was smug, and Hancock felt a sudden strong urge to slice that smile right off of his handsome fucking face.

Rugged and pretty was clearly the group leader, and the two gunmen obeyed his order and put down their weapons. Hancock and Hamm, however, had no such intentions.

"My name is Phillip," rugged and pretty offered, keeping his eyes between the man sputtering blood on the ground and the two ghouls in the distance. "I've been leading an investigation against this man, here, and we've found him guilty of numerous crimes. He's only getting a taste of that sweet Wasteland justice we've all grown to know and love, nothing more. Its official business on behalf of the Revival, and it doesn't concern outsiders. SO, if you don't mind…?"

"The Revival?" Hancock mused. "You mean that extremist group? Ah, you gotta be fucking kidding me. So what, you gonna torture this guy until he begs for death? Seems a bit much, even for the Commonwealth."

"His crimes against synths are extreme!" Phillip yelled, pointing down at the battered man. "He's an employee of the Combat Zone!"

"What, you mean that stupid fight club? It's just for raiders to duke it out, isn't it?"

Phillip laughed again, and the dripping cynicism in his voice was beginning to grate on Hancock's patience.

"Ohm you must have been out of the Commonwealth a while, friend." Phillip shook his head and spit on his victim. "The Combat Zone is now an area of oppression for synthetics. They're sold into slavery, used for death fights and prostitution. Synths are tracked down and hunted, taken from their own homes and families and taken to hell on earth. Now, does that sound fair to you, friend? Does that sound like something that should be commended? They torture synths; so we, in turn, torture back."

Hancock sneered. "Well, maybe that works in your neck of the woods, pal; but that kind of gangland shit doesn't jive around _my_ ton, you dig?"

Phillip glared. " _Your town?_ "

"Oh shit! Phillip! That's Mayor Hancock from Goodneighbor! He's on the Institute's payroll!" one of the guards yelled out and immediately raised his weapon.

Phillip sighed. "Looks like we'll all get our chance to offer enlightenment today, boys! Get them!"

But Hancock was already inhaling the Jet he had in his pocket. The drug kicked in almost immediately and his adrenaline rushed at accelerated rates, slowing down his perception of time and increasing his reflexes. He cocked the shotgun and fired twice, reloaded two shells and fired again. Both guards fell to the ground before Hamm could even let off a full round of shots.

Phillip wasn't dumb. He knew his odds and began to run; but Hancock took pursuit. He dropped his gun and pulled his combat knife from his belt, closing the distance between him and the pretty boy fast. They rounded a corner and Phillip overturned a garbage can to obscure the ghoul's path. Hancock, though, cleared the obstruction with ease and continued the chase. He caught up to Phillip quickly and leapt at him, the two men tumbling to the ground in a struggle.

The Jet had finally worn off and Hancock had to readjust his aim and landed two hard punches on Phillip's jaw. He then flipped the man to the ground and pinned him, holding his blade to the blonds throat, grinning as Phillip tried to struggle against him.

"K-Killing me won't go anything…" Phillip sputtered as the blade pushed against his fragile jugular. "There are so-so many m-more of us. They'll come for you… eventually… We have spies everywhere… eyes and ears… everywhere. Th-The Institute will be destroyed from within… and we'll take you along w-with it."

Hancock chuckled deep in is throat, the sound of it more dangerous than the knife on Phillip's skin. He leaned in so the man could get a good, long look into his black eyes and he sneered.

"Phillip, I would just _love_ to see you try."

A swift movement of his arm, and Hancock was able to jam his blade deep into Phillip's side. The blond cried out in pain and surprise as the ghoul stood up and hovered over him. He placed a firm hand on the handle of his knife and yanked, the blade making a sickening squelching noise as it left Phillip's body. Hancock then pulled out a cloth from his red coat and wiped the blade while Phillip's breathing became erratic and labored.

"That is… if you don't bleed out before your little gang finds you," Hancock grinned, spat on the ground next to Phillip and began to walk away.

"This isn't over!" Phillip yelled. "We've got people in Goodneighbor! You'll be dead before the week's out, Hancock, do you hear me?! We'll come for you!"

"Yeah, yeah, and my little dog, too," Hancock mused as he made his way back to Hamm, his mind racing the entire time.

The last time he had heard about the Combat Zone was when Cait had returned nearly twenty years ago to turn it into a training facility of sorts. She had wanted to help other substance addicts overcome their struggle through group support and physical training. Cait had always been good in a fight, and though she had a tough exterior, her heart was always in the right place. She and Hancock had grown to have a mutual respect for one another, despite their extremely different views on chem and alcohol use; and anytime he had a citizen in his town trying to fight a demon, he'd happily sent them to the Combat Zone.

But then Cait had been murdered by two junkies having bad withdraw symptoms, and that had been the end of it.

Hancock was pretty sure that was when his slip from reality had really begun to take place. He had already begun to isolate himself a few short years after Nora had taken the Institute, but after MacReady's death, and then Cait's shortly after, he began to realize the price he would pay for his near immortality. The reality of him living one while those he cared about died around him, friendships forged over years and years of contact and time spent together, it would all die with them and leave Hancock there to pick up the broken pieces alone, only to try again with the same results. He figured life would just be better if he remained high and surrounded by only the superficial relationships one found when in power. It was much easier than saying goodbye to his friends one generation after another.

But now… there was a great injustice happening in the Commonwealth; and close enough to be at his own front door, no less. For him to have missed it for all these years…

"Shit… have a really been out of it for _that long?_ " Hancock mumbled the question to himself, rubbing the back of his neck as his headache kicked in again.

Hamm was busy searching the two downed gunmen when Hancock made it back. They had some pretty sophisticated armor under those jackets that Hamm was more than happy to relieve them of. The duffel bags had been pulled from their hiding spots and now lay open on the ground while the ghoul placed their spoils into it.

The man who had been beaten was propped up against a building now. He was breathing heavily through a broken nose and blood trickled from his ears and mouth. He turned his weary head to look up at Hancock and he coughed.

"Th-Thank you…"

Hancock squatted right in front of the man and glared. "Don't thank me just yet. Is anything that blond idiot said true? You a part of that fucking mess over at the Combat Zone?"

The man flinched. "N… No… N-No, sir. I d-d-don't know what-what he was talking about."

It was hard for Hancock to know if he was lying or not due to the swelling of his face and both eyes being nearly shrouded in lumps and bruises. Hancock rocked back on his heels and stood, sighing and scratching his head underneath his tricorn hat.

"Well, you've all put me in a real situation here, buddy; because that Phillip asshole seemed awful convincing…"

"I-I'm not!" the man stuttered, clenching his sides.

Hancock walked a tight circle and clicked his tongue. Dragging out this guy's anxiety felt as good as it did in the good old days. He knew this guy was lying – deep in his bones, he knew; but there was no solid proof. He couldn't just up and kill the guy without proof…

' _But you can make him change.'_

That thought made the ghoul grin and he crouched down again and clapped the man on the shoulder. A yelp of pain came out of his split lips and it made Hancock's smile grow.

"Okay, tell you what," he began, digging around in his coat. "I'm not sure whether I should trust you or Phillip, so I'll make this real easy."

From his coat, he pulled out his combat knife again, taking pleasure in the fear that flashed in the guy's eyes. He was trying to feebly squirm free of Hancock's grip, but both of them knew there was no escape. Hancock waved the blade around in a mesmerizing pattern for a moment, his eyes glazing over the shiny metal. The mid-afternoon sun shone on the blade, the white light glinting off of it, making both men squint. Hancock appreciated the weapon for a moment more, then held the blade against the man's cheek, getting his face within an inch of each other, his smile still wide and beaming.

The man screamed as Hancock applied pressure and sunk the blade into his flesh.

"Please! O-Oh god please! Please stop! Please!"

Hancock shook the guy slightly to quiet him.

"Stop moving will ya? You're gonna make me fuck up."

Another few agonizing minutes went past (well, not agonizing for Hancock. Actually, he was having a gay old time), and after blacking out, Hancock was able to easily finish his work on the man's face. A very jagged and sloppy, but legible skull and crossbones was now carved into the cheek of Hancock's human canvas. Blood ran down his blade, his hands, the face, and Hancock chuckled in delight. It had been way too long since he had branded or maimed anyone, and not only did he get to do that today, but he also stabbed someone lethally, and killed two men without missing a beat. Today was starting to turn around, and Hancock felt like a weight was beginning to lift from his shoulders.

Hancock checked to make sure Hamm was still waiting for him, and once that was confirmed, he gave the man below him a firm slap across the face to bring him out of his sleep. He awoke, but his responses were sluggish and drool ran from his mouth, mixing in with the blood from his cheek. Hancock left a Med-X syringe and a can of water next to him, still grinning.

"Now I'll be able to spot you from a mile away," he said happily. Then, his tone turned serious as he let all humor leave, leaning in and locking eyes with the man. "If I ever see you in the Combat Zone, or my town, or _anywhere in the Commonwealth_ for that matter, you're gonna wish I had finished you off here and now, you dig?"

The man nodded, whimpering and obviously frantic to be out of the situation he was in. Hancock took a few more seconds to really stare into the guy's soul, and then he finally stood. He gave the man on the ground a friendly tip of his hat, as if they were old buddies who had just finished a round of beers, and almost skipped away. He had to admit, that had been fun, and his perma-grin even made Hamm smirk in the distance.

"You're not gonna kill him?" he asked as Hancock slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, bending to pick up his discarded shotgun.

"Nah," Hancock sighed. "I doubt he'll do more then try to find a safe route out of the Commonwealth. We'll give him his chance."

Hamm wasn't about to argue. He picked up the remaining two bags and followed his boss.

"So, what now?" Hamm asked, falling into step with Hancock.

The ghoul grinned. "It's been far too long since I've been this awake, Hamm," he explained. "I'm gonna spend the week getting' reacquainted with the people, you feel me? Then, we're gonna grab some scouts and find out just what the hell is going on up in Combat Zone."

Hamm couldn't stop the mile wide smile that crossed his lips. His boss was back, and he was ready for a fight.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

"How's the arm looking?"

Evan winced as Amber ran a gentle yet firm grip up his arm. He hissed when she reached the fracture just two inches below his elbow.

"Sorry," Amber apologized, easing off for a moment to let Evan take a few breaths.

Evan finally looked over at V once the pain had dulled and offered a weak smile. "It's good."

She shook her head and laughed. "Liar."

They had left Brockton Pass early that morning (much to Rob and Amber's protests. They had hit the liquor hard the previous night), and now they were eating lunch just outside of the Neponset trail. They had packed their two brahmin as full as possible with their supplies. Everyone still had to carry a pack on their backs to carry their food and first aid.

The journey north on route twenty eight had been surprisingly quiet and uneventful. V had expected raiders or wildlife or super mutants to find them; but they were left alone, aside from the odd feral dog or molerat, they remained unscathed. Now, they were taking a quick break before heading east on Neponset trail.

"You think they rest of the trip will be just as quiet?" Rob asked V and he chugged a Nuka Cola.

V smiled. "We can only hope."

A short while later, the group was on the move again. The day was cloudy and the clouds above threatened rain and a cold wind blew through the trees above. Evan and Callie were up ahead, talking and laughing, with Rob and Amber at the head of the group. V stayed behind everyone, including the two brahmin, keeping her eyes and ear on constant alert. Her nerves were shaken since learning about Alistair and his involvement in her life since she thought she had escaped. Now, paranoia was beginning to creep in, and every small movement set off internal alarms like July fourth fireworks. It seemed now, that no matter where she went, Alistair would find a way to put her to work again.

"No way, Callie, you're totally wrong here! A deathclaw could take down a behemoth without any issue. Behemoths are slow and stupid; deathclaws are smart and fast."

"But a behemoth is over twice the size of a deathclaw. It may not have a brain, but it has the instinct to attack and the muscle mass to withstand numerous blows."

"V! V! Settle something for us!"

Called rolled he eyes. "Come on, don't get _her_ involved."

Evan ignored her and waited for V to catch up. "Okay, you've seen more than your fair share of the wasteland, settle this; Deathclaw vs Behemoth."

V was amused at their bickering and couldn't help but smile. She slung her shotgun to the side and thought about it for a few moments, while Evan waited patiently and Callie sighed.

"Well, a deathclaw is definitely smarter, faster and more agile. It has been known to use techniques to trap its victims and its claws can tear holes in steel and shatter skulls when it grips. Plus, its tail give is a little extra range."

"See?" Evan replied smugly at his sister.

"No, hold on," V interjected. "A behemoth is no lightweight, either. They may be dumb, but they are _big_ and strong, and they can more then hold their own in a fight. The sheer muscle mass alone acts as a thick armor that takes multiple bullets to finally penetrate."

"So, what are you trying to say?" Evan asked.

"I guess that they are so equally matched that it would be hard to determine which would win. I've fought a deathclaw before, and they take a _lot_ to put down, and one wrong move can mean your death," she explained. " _But_ , I've seen a behemoth destroy an encampment of gunners like they were radroaches beneath his feet, so it's a pretty tough call. I'd have to give the fight a fifty/fifty chance for either monster."

Both Evan and Callie looked disappointed at her reply, staring blankly at her.

"What?" V asked defensively. "You wanted a knowledgeable answer, right?"

"Yeah, honest, but not cheap," Evan replied.

They continued on, the four ahead talking it up without concern for their surroundings. V kept a vigilant eye out as they walked further down the trail. It was when they had walked far enough from the last town that V started to feel… different. The hairs on her arms stood up and goosebumps ran over her flesh. She looked around, trying to get a sense of anyone following them, her heart rate accelerating at the every shadow that moved, believing Alistair to be one of them.

It was then, that the radiation storm started; fierce, and without warning.

The sky clouded over in a sickly green hue and a loud buzzing noise seemed to come from all around them. The group stopped abruptly and gathered together near the caravans.

"V, grab the Rad-X!" Rob shouted over the distorted thunder overhead. "Everyone, stay close! Roland said to expect high winds and heavy radiation!"

V untethered one of their coverings and rummaged for a bottle of the Rad-X they had packed away. Evan came around to help her search. The two of them opened random bags and boxes, trying to find the first aid supplies in the poor lighting.

"Got it!" Evan yelled over the storm, holding the pill bottle in his hands.

Suddenly, a gust of wind came upon them, strong enough to knock Rob and Amber off balance and rip the caravan covering free of its tethers, sending it, and numerous supplies, flying into the air and scattering around the field.

"Shit!" Evan cursed.

"Get the supplies!" Rob yelled, and they went scrambling.

V worked on getting the ropes back in place to retie the caravan. She climbed on top of the large wagon and kneeled on top of the supplies, preventing anything else from escaping. Her hair had begun to escape its pony tail and long, white chunks blew about, whipping in the wind. V withdrew one of her pistols from her side holster and peeked through the attached scope to cover the others as they searched about. Off in the distance, she caught movement.

V's eyes widened in surprise and she zoomed in on the random movement coming from far ahead of them. Closer inspection showed her rock formations that were carved perfectly into beautiful and macabre statues and figures. Rows upon rows of carved stones stretched over towards the black mass V was zooming in on.

Her heart stopped when the blurring image became slightly clearer. The black mass was breaking apart into numerous, smaller pieces. They headed in V's direction through the rows of stones…

Not stones…

"Tombstones…" V said to herself with a gasp. "Oh fuck!'

Coming towards them at an incredibly fast speed was an enormous pack of feral ghouls.

"EVAN! CALLIE! AMBER! ROB!" V screamed at the top of her lungs but she could hardly even hear herself over the crackling of the storm above. Of course, that meant the group couldn't hear her, either.

V wasted no time. She holstered her gun, withdrew her two swords and leapt off of the caravan, bounding towards her friends and the approaching horde. Feral ghouls, when acting on their own, were fierce, but easy to kill. They were simply irradiated zombies that tried to kill anything that moved; but they were weak and stupid.

In a large number, they were much harder to overcome.

She had never seen any group survive a horde.

"ROB! EVAN!" V tried again, getting closer to them. She looked on ahead and saw the ghouls begin to break off in separate directions. She noticed Callie was the furthest ahead, her head down as she searched the dark ground carefully for any lost supplies. If they couldn't hear V's voice by now, then they definitely wouldn't hear the ghouls until it was too late.

So, V stopped yelling and bolted for Callie, vaulting over tombstones and pushing off of them to increase her speed. She could see the small group of charred corpses getting closer to Callie, so V pushed herself and launched her body high in the air. She cleared the remaining distance between her and Callie easily, the wind blowing strong against her back to give her extra distance. She landed in a roll, knocking Callie out of the way.

V had no time to hope everyone else saw her. Immediately after landing, she was assaulted by ghouls.

Ghouls, by definition, were not the most attractive beings in the wasteland. Radiation exposure left them scarred beyond recognition. Feral ghouls were worse. They were bonier, slimier, more decomposed and brainless. They crowded V instantly and began throwing their arms at her, gnashing their teeth to get at her flesh and growling and howling over the storm as they attacked. V wasted no bullets on them, they were much too close; so she raised her swords instead and began slicing through them like a machete through jungle vines. Irradiated blood covered her as decayed limbs and decayed flesh flew until it was only her left standing.

From a distance, V was able to hear a few pops here and there. She turned to see Evan and Rob standing atop the caravan, shooting towards the horde. V turned her attention to Callie, who lay unconscious on the ground with a nasty gash on her forehead. Apparently V's tackle to remove her from harm had been misguided and she slammed her head into a tombstone.

V's heart raced as she bent down to check Callie's vitals. A firm hand on the chest confirmed she was at least still breathing, and V sighed in relief. She sheathed her swords and scooped Callie into her arms, rushing back towards the caravan.

"She's out cold!" V yelled.

Rob was there, immediately pulling her into the caravan. He looked about for Amber, his eyes frantic as he searched.

"AMBER!" he screamed at V, who could only _just_ hear him over the storm. He pointed just northwest of their position and V's blood ran cold.

Amber clung to the top of a large stone cross about fifty paces away. She had wrapped her body around the very top, using the horizontal pieces as leverage to keep her above the ghouls below her –

The roughly twenty odd ghouls below her.

They couldn't hear, but V knew she was screaming. She began to plot a course to get Amber, until she noticed another pack of ghouls heading in the caravan's directions. She drew her two pistols and turned to Rob.

"COVER ME! I'M GOING TO THIN THE PACK ON THE LEFT FIRST! THEN I'LL MAKE IT TO AMBER! GET THE BRAHMIN READY ONCE I HAVE HER!"

Rob nodded and relayed the information to Evan as best he could. He held a pistol in his good arm and was aiming as carefully as he could at the ghouls surrounding Amber. Both men changed course and covered V as she headed towards the pack coming towards the Brahmin. They had to disperse them first so the animals wouldn't spook any more than they already were, or they would be walking without supplies to Goodneighbor.

V dashed forward and began firing into the pack with her two pistols simultaneously, knocking a few down as she drew closer. When the clips ran out, she holstered guns and took out her swords, barging into the pack and swinging away with strong strikes. The ghouls fought back, clawing and biting at V, leaving wounds and drawing blood. The snarls and growls and inhuman screams came from all around her as she hacked away; gore beginning to cover her from head to toe.

Then, she heard the human scream.

V turned towards Amber in time enough to see her disappearing into the pack of ghouls. She must have lost her footing and a ghoul must have grabbed her, prompting others who could reach to follow suit. V immediately shoved aside the rest of the attacking ghouls and darted towards Amber. From the corner of her eye, V saw Rob dashing in the same direction, as well.

Rob held his gun up and began firing carefully, trying to pick off the ghouls without hurting Amber, but it slowed his progression.

From above, the thunder boomed; from below, the ghouls howled. Everything was just a loud and dangerous mess.

V sliced at two ghouls in front of her and easily shoved their headless bodies aside. She impaled another ghoul and sliced across yet another's belly as she entered the carnage for her friend. It only took an extra moment for the ghouls to realize they were under attack. They quickly turned their attention to V and gathered around her, continuing their assault.

V's rage bubbled. "COME ON!" she screamed as she kept attacking. Her muscles were beginning to tire and her skin burned. Being somewhat organic still meant that radiation affected her, just nowhere near the same as regular humans. Being surrounded by ferals, however, and being under constant attack was making her body weak and fuzzy.

V gritted her teeth and pressed on, though. She raised her swords high and brought them down on a ghoul in front of her, splitting his chest and stomach open. A ghoul surprised her from behind and brought its teeth down on her shoulder, biting hard and making V scream out in agony and flip the rotting meat sack over her shoulder. She thrust both blades into its head as it thrashed at her, still after only a second.

Another ghoul tackled her and she fell to the ground underneath bare and boney feet. They all came down on her, teeth gnashing at her flesh as she fought, the green-grey sky above her diminishing as the air around her became thinner and harder to grasp…

More gunshots rang out over the storm, closer this time and V felt the pressure of decayed bodies easing off of her and the sky came back into view. She took a deep, cleansing breath and felt some of her strength come back. She shoved at the remaining ghouls, her muscles screaming at her to stop at once, but she pressed on.

"V! ARE YOU OKAY?!" Evan yelled above her, his face coming into her view as she lay on the hard cemetery ground. Rob came to her other side and both men hoisted her up.

"G-Get Amber…" V mumbled, but she knew they wouldn't hear her.

Rob, however, slung V's arm around Evan and took off in Amber's direction.

Evan helped V into the caravan where Callie was still unconscious, but breathing normally. V slumped against the caravan and waited for Evan to find and administer a stimpak to help her healing. She hissed when he jammed the syringe into her arm, but felt the immediate effects of her flesh mending.

The storm overhead was dying off and Evan and V waited with baited breath on the ground next to the caravan. The grasped each other's hands tightly, their eyes never leaving the direction Rob would come from, hoping to see Amber with him.

"Oh my god…" Evan breathed.

Rob finally came staggering into view, Amber draped over his arms, her head cradled into his chest. She was covered in blood and gore from head to toe, her arm was hanging at an odd angle and there was a large lump on her leg and dark blood was seeping through the fabric of her jeans.

V and Evan scrambled to their weary feet and helped Rob get Amber to the caravan next to Callie.

"Rob," Evan placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as they leaned over their sister and Amber. "Are you okay?"

"There's another horde of ghouls heading our way," Rob replied, his face pale and covered in scratches and blood, his eyes glassy as he stared down at Amber and his sister.

V nodded. "Take care of them and we'll get us out of here," she said, squeezing Rob's shoulder gently.

Both V and Evan hopped from the caravan (well, more stumbled off due to their injuries) and they climbed the brahmin. After a gentle kick to the sides, both beasts were off, mooing in protest at the added weight on their bodies, but moving nonetheless. They rode hard for a few minutes to get ahead of the approaching horde, the sickening, guttural screams of the ghouls echoing in the storm; then, they slowed so the brahmin could catch their breath.

"How's she doing?!" V yelled back at Rob, keeping her eyes on the road.

Rob was busy inspecting Amber's wounds. He had taken out all the first aid he could find and began injecting Amber with stimpaks and Med-X. He cut away her jeans to reveal a broken bone breaking the skin on her leg, and her shoulder was clearly dislocated.

"God babe… I'm so sorry…" Rob sobbed as he caressed Amber's face gently. He stared down at the love of his life in shock. Her caramel skin was marred and covered in cuts and bruises. The stimpaks helped the worst of it, but it would take time to fully heal from the full extent of her wounds. Her golden hair was n ow dark and covered in dirt, blood and bits of flesh; she was battered and broken, and Rob did all he could to bite back his tears.

"Come on baby," he whispered, stroking her sticky hair. "Come on, wake up for me. Please, baby…"

In an instant, Amber's eyes flew open. Rob's heart danced when he saw the life flash in her eyes – until they rolled into the back of her head.

"Amber - !"

Her body began to shake violently and a thick, pink and green foam began to seep from her lips.

Rob sprang into action and leapt over her, getting a hold of her head to keep her from hurting herself, or choking on her own vomit.

"She's seizing!" he yelled, desperation in his voice.

V and Evan stopped instantly, V hopping from the brahmin and into the back of the caravan, kneeling next to Rob.

"She's poisoned!" V exclaimed. "Too much radiation! Evan! RadAway! Quick!"

"On it!" Evan leapt from his mount and began to frantically rummage through the second wagon while V pulled a syringe from her jacket, quickly injecting it into Amber's arm.

"What is that?" Rob asked weakly.

"Calmex," V answered. "I lifted it from Roland's office. Thought we could use one. It's a tranquilizer. It should calm her down."

Within seconds, Amber's seizing subsided and her eyes closed. V sighed in relief and dared to look up at Rob – Rob, who was always so sure of his actions, Rob who was the unelected leader, Rob who always had his head on straight and could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Now, that same Rob was sitting off to the side, his face ashen, his body trembling, eyes wide and brimming with tears as he mumbled to himself.

"She's going to be okay," V tried to reassure him while stroking Amber's hair.

Evan returned to the caravan. "V, I have the RadAway, only…" He held the single bag up, his face grim. "We only have one bag."

V grimaced. "It'll have to be enough. Quick, pass the tubing." She took the bag from Evan and connected the surgical tubing to the bag, pinching off the line. Evan was efficient and had grabbed the needles as well. V quickly found a vein and injected the needle into Amber's arm. She held the bag up and offered it over to Rob.

"Okay, Rob, take the bag and keep it up. We're gonna ride hard to Goodneighbor and hopefully – Rob?"

V looked up and saw the dazed look in Rob's eyes just before he leaned over the caravan to vomit. A quick check confirmed his condition was roughly the same as Amber's. Both had been severely poisoned by the radiation storm and the onslaught of ghouls; and there wasn't enough RadAway for both of them.

V grabbed Rob as he was on the verge of passing out and falling out of the caravan. She pulled him back and laid him next to Amber, hooking the bag onto a propped up rifle and praying it was enough to let the medication flow. They were quickly running out of time, and V knew they had to act now. She jumped onto the brahmin's back and turned to Evan.

"We have to get to Goodneighbor, NOW!"

Evan nodded and turned to run towards his mount. V checked her passengers one more time for the rise and fall of their chests. Amber's was the most rapid and shallow and V felt a pang of urgency. I they rode hard, they could be in Goodneighbor within two hours on the brahmin; and maybe then they could save Amber. V's heart dropped at the thought of losing her friend, again blaming herself for their current situation.

' _Blame yourself later. Just get them to safety,'_ she told herself. V shook her head and focused.

 _Tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat!_

That sound. That oh-so-familiar sound that, when you aren't expecting it or aware of its origin, it sends you into a panicked frenzy. A calm glance to the left brought a small group of gunmen into V's view. Feeling as if the whole world had taken a large hit of Jet, V moved her head slowly to the right to yell at Evan to move it; however, he seemed to be having a terrible time trying to pull himself up onto the brahmin.

With three holes in his back, who wouldn't have problems?

It was the realization that Evan had been shot that brought V back. Time resumed its normal pace when she saw her friend struggling to remain upright, his body slowly slumping to the concrete. V's eyes grew wide, her body's weakness from radiation and fighting was quickly forgotten. Turning back towards the gunmen, she heard them shouting, but their voices were muffled by her own muddled thoughts and actions. She saw them raising their weapons, waving at her, yanking her leg to get her off of the brahmin; but none of it registered as she felt the rage bubble over. Her entire body tremored as a tiny snicker came from her lips. While gun barrels were prodded and waved in her face, and indistinguishable words were yelled, V pulled her combat knife from the small of her back and went to work.

* * *

When Callie slept, she would dream of home – of her mother and her father. She didn't remember anything about her mother since she had died giving birth to her and Evan; but she somehow knew she smelled of delicate carrot flowers. Callie felt herself smiling at the memory of her sitting at the dinner table while her father made her favorite brahmin bacon with hen eggs. Her father, still alive, standing over her with is big, protective frame and his kind brown eyes. The smell of bacon wafted into her nose and Callie inhaled deeply…

She came up coughing and retching. The smell of bacon had been replaced by something far more smoky and putrid, the smell burning her nostrils. Callie sat and rubbed her head, wincing and taking in a sharp breath when her hand grazed the large egg forming at the top of her head. She noticed a little blood on her hands when she pulled it away and she squinted, confused.

' _When did I hit my head?'_

She was dizzy. Even just from sitting she felt her head swim and her stomach lurched.

"R…Rob?" she mumbled. Her words came out muffled and fuzzy, the sound unfamiliar to Callie as she tried to piece together why she was suddenly on the back of the caravan. She reached for something to brace herself so she could pull herself up, and her hands found a pile of soft, warm fabric to grab as she tried rising to her knees. She wondered why no one was talking, why they weren't moving, and why she had decided to take a nap in the middle of the day.

' _Or… is it dusk, now?'_

Finally, her mind began to clear and she got a better look at the scenery around her, a chill immediately ran up her spine as she covered her mouth in horror.

The caravans were surrounded in body parts and corpses; the look of the armor screaming gunners. Guns and blood were strewn about and a sickening lump developed in Callie's stomach. What was it so deafeningly quiet? Where was everyone?

A weak moan came from under her knees and Callie turned her fuzzy gaze downwards.

"Rob! Amber!" she gasped in her strange sounding voice. Callie fell backwards on her rear and let out a choked sob as she saw her brother and his girlfriend lying below her. She had been kneeling on Amber's arm, which was bleeding steadily. Callie whimpered as she crawled towards their bodies; praying to hear a heartbeat, she pressed her ear to Amber's chest and then to Rob's.

Both were beating. Weak, but beating.

Frantic now, Callie whipped her head towards the other caravan and immediately regretted it. She fell over clumsily and got slightly tangled in the contents below her, ropes getting wrapped around her feet. She steadied herself by placing her hands on the side of the large wagon and gazed over to the other brahmin and caravan. There was a familiar lean frame lying on the ground next to one of the large wheels.

"Evan!" she screamed, recognizing her twin instantly. She frantically kicked at the opposing ropes and tipped over the edge of the caravan, landing on the hard ground with a loud _thump!_ Sharp rocks and shrapnel scrapped across her arms and back as she wiggled onto her front and tried to crawl over to her brother, her brain screaming at her to stop until it corrected itself. Callie ignored it, however, and began crawling to Evan.

When she reached her brother, she hesitated, another sob escaping her lips as her hands grazed his back. Three bullet wounds had torn through his shoulder, all of them bleeding through his shirt. Callie pulled herself next to her brother and rolled him over, gently placing him in her lap. He groaned, slightly, and Callie sighed in relief. He didn't wake up, but that only added to her respite, seeing as she would be no good to anyone until her dizzy spell subsided.

"Evan… thank god you're okay," she whispered, holding her brother tenderly. She quickly checked the front of Evan's chest to make sure all three bullets had gone through clean, carefully peeling his shirt back at the shoulder. A quick peek confirmed all had gone through, and Callie nearly cried, happy her brother would most likely live.

As she sat there, gently rocking her brother, Callie heard a sputtering cough from the other side of the caravan. The young woman froze, fear turning her blood to ice as it passed through her veins. She checked her surroundings and found a barbed baseball bat close to her. Lying Evan carefully back down to the ground first, Callie reached and picked up the bat, gingerly making her way around the caravan. She rounded the corner at the back and paused to take in a deep, steadying breath.

"C…C-Callie…"

She knew that voice all too well, but had never heard it so weak before. Callie rounded the next corner and her breath caught in her throat.

V was propped against the large wooden wheel of the caravan, her head hung low and she was covered in grime, dirt and blood. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach and Callie could tell she had been coughing up blood.

Cautiously, Callie crawled closer to V and wiped a strand of dirty hair from her face. "V?" she asked.

"C-Callie…" V stuttered. "Th-Thank god… thank god you're okay…"

"What happened?"

V didn't respond right away and Callie could tell she was slipping in and out of consciousness. Callie frowned, desperate for answers. She pulled her arm back and gave V a hard slap across the face, waking her.

"V, focus!" she yelled. "Tell me what happened!"

"Rad storm… ghouls… gunners…" V trailed. She held tight to her stomach and winced. "I-Is everyone… everyone else…?"

"They're okay," Callie replied, understanding her question. "Why didn't we run?"

"Comp-Complications…" V tried to laugh, but cried out in pain instead. She clutched her stomach harder. "Ran f-from ghouls… but gunners… ambushed…" she tried to raise her head, using all of her strength to look Callie in the eyes. "I-I'm trying to heal but… I n-need your help."

Callie was wary. V, being what she was, had an accelerated healing ability and most common wounds like gunshots and knife slices healed in a matter of hours. If V needed help to heal that meant the wound she had was bad. Like, kill-any-normal-human-being-in-seconds bad. Callie wasn't sure she'd be able to help in her current state.

"V… I-I don't think that I can…" Callie said, her heart racing. "My head is fuzzy…"

V grimaced. "Y-You have a… concussion. You can't… You can't g-get us all to Goodneighbor alone. You… You'll n-need my help."

But Callie wasn't sure. She was hardly any good at first aid when she _wasn't_ suffering from a concussion, and now she was expected to help V with a possibly life-threatening wound? The thought made her tired. She was suddenly so exhausted. There was a constant ringing in her ears that was getting steadily louder and a pain in her head that pushed relentlessly against her skull. She sighed, her eyes feeling so heavy and the temptation to close them was too great…

"C-Callie!"

Immediately, her eyes flew back open. She nodded at V and said, shakily, "What do you need me to do?"

"Med-X… Sh-Shirts we can… rip… Stimpaks….n-needle and thread…" V listed off the items in a strained tone, clutching her stomach tight. "And whiskey."

Callie set off in an awkward stumble and climbed the caravan. She began digging for the first aid kit and after a few minutes of silent curses and shaking hands, she found the bag containing any and all meds, chems and basic surgical equipment. From another bag she pulled out a few clean cotton shirts and a bottle of whiskey from the side of the wagon. Callie dropped to the ground again, her dizzy spells now coming on faster and stronger, and she crawled back to V.

V lifted her ashen face and forced a smile for encouragement.

Callie's breathing was becoming labored. She tried to focus her eyes as best she could.

"Now," V struggled to sit up better, pushing against the ground with her feet. "M-My stomach is… open. F-Fucking gunner p-piece of shit got… got a cheap shot in. It's… it's gross… but y-you need to help me…"

Callie's face blanched, her dark mocha skin becoming ashy and pale like V's. She gulped. "What do I do?"

Slowly, and with great pain, V moved her arms away from her stomach, almost making Callie pass out from the sight. The 'cheap shot' was not a wasted one. The laceration started in her lower abdomen and was cut diagonally upwards towards her rib cage. The ends of the wound were shallow and showed signs of healing already; the middle, however, was a complete mess of exposed tendons and muscle and torn skin. Fresh blood began to ooze as the wound spread open again, giving more of a macabre scene than either woman wanted to see. Callie fought the urge to vomit, so instead she retched once or twice away from V before getting it together.

V groaned. "Y-You need t-to hold both sides together… so… so I can stitch it…"

"Oh god, V… I-I don't think I… I can't… I can't do it."

V locked eyes with Callie, her tone sincere through the pain she was feeling. "Yes. Yes you can… Callie. Y-You have to or… or we won't make it…"

Callie whimpered, but V took her hands and guided them to her stomach, both of them shaking for different reasons. V gently placed Callie's hands on either side of the laceration. Callie watched V through tired eyes as she tried to keep her lunch down. She felt so sick suddenly. She didn't think wounds bothered her _this_ much, yet, she could barely concentrate past keeping awake and puke free.

"Just… keep it closed… use… using light p-pressure…"

With V's instruction, Callie began to press down and inward on her stomach.

"Oh god! Oh…Oh f-f-FUCK!" V seethed and her breathing became fast and erratic. Callie panicked and tried to pull away, but V caught her hands and stilled her, breathing fast through the pain. She grimaced as large beads of sweat rolled down her face and she stared into Callie's eyes, determined to see this through.

"V… I can't - !"

"Y-Yes you can… come on…" V forced a small laugh. "You've wanted to… to make me suffer a bit for a while now… So here's y-your chance…"

Callie bit her lip and waited for V to thread the needle (V had to take numerous tries since she had to weave the thread multiple times to make it thick and strong enough) and administer a stimpak. She then took several chugs of whiskey and took a few long breaths, careful not to extend her stomach. After V gathered up all of her iron will, she motioned for Callie to place more pressure on her stomach, which Callie did, hesitantly.

V groaned and trembled slightly, sucking in short breaths while the white hot pain flashed through her. "J-J-Just… just h-hold it… there…" V quickly got to work. She took the Med-X from beside her and quickly injected it into her arm, giving her a slight reprieve from the immense pain. She steadied her hand and stared into Callie's scared eyes.

"H-Here we go…"

This wasn't the first time V had to stitch herself up after a fight. There had been times after escaping the Vault that she had needed to help a deep cut or gunshot wound here and there. However, five stitches in the arm or leg was vastly different from the roughly twenty to thirty she would be putting into her stomach. The first few stitches stung and made V cringe and cry out in pain. She tugged gently on the thread so as not to snap it and after the first ten or so stitches, the pain began to lessen.

"I'm going to be sick," Callie mumbled, trying to watch V's actions from her peripheral vision only.

V's face was now drenched in sweat and when she looked up she saw Callie's was much the same. She also noticed the nosebleed beginning to run from the girls' nose.

"W-We have to hurry…" V whispered to herself, focusing on the last few stitches, her hands trembling. Once she finally tied off the threads, Callie eased off of her stomach slowly. The stitching was messy and uneven, but upon further inspection, V was fairly certain it would hold long enough for her body to heal if she didn't strain it too much.

V took another large swig of whiskey and sighed. She injected another stimpak into her arm and leaned her head back for a moment, allowing the medication to start its work. Callie was busy tearing the cotton shirts into strips while V caught her breath and regained some strength. Both women worked together to wrap V's midsection tightly with the shirt strips and once finished, V gingerly threw a baggy shirt over herself and they gathered any and all salvageable equipment as fast at the could. V notice Callie's drunken walk and made a mental note to ensure she'd get medical attention just as fast as the others. Once everything was packed and secured, they set off again at the fastest speed they could manage.

They rode hard for over an hour, the moon now high in the dark sky, when Callie began to vomit just like Rob and Amber had. When she passed out shortly after, V tethered the caravans together and continued on, ignoring the blood seeping through her bandages and onto her shirt. The only thing she kept in the forefront of her mind was getting her friends to Goodneighbor, no matter the cost.

* * *

It was roughly three in the morning when Hancock came stumbling out of the Smoothskin. He had his fill of women, chems and booze and now he just wanted a cigarette and some sleep. As he made his way up to the Old State House, he overheard a commotion at the front gates. Drunken state forgotten, Hancock picked up his pace to get to the front gates and see things for himself.

The two gunmen at the entrance were shouting at a third who was climbing down the ladder. He jumped off the last few rungs and quickly opened the gate they kept locked during the dark hours. A caravan came crashing in with a second tethered behind it, knocking the guard off of his feet and sending him flying backwards and onto the ground. A woman was riding the lead brahmin, and even from a distance and in the dark, Hancock was able to see the caked gore covering most of her body.

The brahmin stopped abruptly and the woman stood, her body wobbling.

"HELP US! Someone! P-Please…"

As she fell off of the caravan and collapsed to the ground, Hancock ran forward and knelt beside her, feeling for a pulse.

"Get a doctor over here! Now!" he shouted.

All he had wanted was a goddamn cigarette and a nap.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

"Come on Hancock, you can't be serious!"

Hancock stood about ten paces from Vincent, and he had to admit he was loving the look of shock and fear on his face as he stared down the barrel of his pistol.

Hancock had appointed Vincent to deputy mayor almost fifteen years ago when he had decided to haphazardly shirk his duties. Vincent had seemed honest and capable at the time; the ghoul had been Hancock's assistant and bumping him up the ladder seemed natural. However, the more Hancock had allowed himself to wallow in self-loathing, chems and alcohol, the more Vincent took over his job and kept Hancock out of the loop of his operations.

And illegal operations, as Hancock was learning, were what Vincent seemed to excel at.

"Oh, I'm serious Vinny," Hancock replied with a sneer. "You've been at the helm far too long, friend; and now I see you for what you are."

Vincent scoffed. "You mean Goodneighbor's leader? Someone who helped maintain our growth and strength? _I_ kept this place afloat and on the map, Hancock. _Me_ , not you. I kept business and trade strong here. Hell, I've even brought in _new_ business."

That made Hancock seethe. He took a quick breath to calm his anger and he smirked. "Yeah, let's talk about all this 'new business' shall we? I went to SmoothSkin last night…"

Vincent shrugged. "So? My reports here have records of you going there multiple times. I know you're Crystal's best repeat customer," he sneered at Hancock. "And I know what that is. Tell me, was the Director of the Institute a natural red head too, all those years ago?"

Hancock growled and pulled the trigger of his pistol, the shot ringing out loud and clear in the small warehouse office. From behind a cringing Vincent, a nice smoking hole made itself known. Vincent dared a peek behind him to see the bullet had only been millimeters above his head.

"You crazy fuck – "

"Tsk tsk tsk," Hancock clicked his tongue. "Let's not delve into my personal affairs Vinny; you won't like what you find, trust me." Hancock took a step closer and it gave him pleasure to see Vincent take a step back. "Now, speaking of regular customers, do the girls downstairs have any say in who their regulars get to be?"

Vincent cringed, refusing to reply; which was just fine for Hancock.

"Boy, those girls must bring in some _insane_ business and caps, considering how much it must cost to keep them whacked out on Day Tripper all day, every day."

Vincent tensed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the bullshit!" Hancock barked. "Don't think for a second that you're under the table arms trades, your chem hoarding and privateering and your selling off women has gone unnoticed. Now that I know the full extent of it, I've come to collect."

"So, you're gonna kill me and take the caps for yourself?" Vincent laughed. "Good luck! Even if you kill me, my men are loyal, Hancock. They'll gun you down like the dog you are!"

"Oh? You think so, do you?" Hancock kept his smirk and fired another shot. This one lodged itself into Vincent's shoulder and the ghoul cried out in pain. Hancock laughed. "I don't hear the cavalry comin' Vinny, do you?" Another gunshot and another scream of pain as Vincent fell to the floor, his right knee cap destroyed by a well-placed shot.

"You… You fucking asshole!" Vincent yelled. "What did you do?!"

Hancock shrugged and began a slow pace towards Vincent. "Caps talk, Vinny. I guess your boys didn't think their pay was enough. With what I take back from you and all of our new revenue, I'll have more than enough to pay our boys _plus_ the Neighborhood Watch." He stood over the cowering ghoul now, his eyes darkening as he glared down, but his smirk still stayed. "I told you all those years ago to never forget who was really in charge here. Guess you forgot. Now, I gotta make an example of you, you dig?"

"W-Wait!... Wait H-Hancock don't -!"

BAM!

The final gunshot into Vincent's skull was the most satisfying sound Hancock had heard in the last few days.

"Goodbye, Vincent," Hancock murmured and he spat on the corpse below him. He put the still smoking barrel to his ruined nose and inhaled deep. The smell of gunpowder ran through him and sent an excited chill up his spine.

"You okay, boss?" Hamm had entered the room by the last gunshot, as he and Hancock had discussed beforehand, and was relieved to see his boss with his signature smile.

"Yeah, Hamm," Hancock popped a Mentat and holstered his pistol. "I feel good; great, actually. Almost forgot how good it is to be the mayor of this place." He took a look around the generous sized warehouse through the office window. Some of Vincent's men were meandering about, waiting for further instructions.

"So… what do you want us to do with all this stuff?" Hamm asked, gesturing to the warehouse full of crates and boxes.

Hancock hummed. "You and your new employees can start going through all of the inventory, here. I want only _you_ in this office, going through Vincent's ledgers and sales records. Keep his caps in his safe until I get back tonight and we'll count it together."

Hamm nodded. "Sure thing, boss. Where are you off to now?"

"I'm off to check up on our new guests. Dr. Wilson should have a full report on their injuries ready for me." Hancock lit a cigarette and clapped Hamm on the shoulder before walking out the office door. "Maybe one of them is even awake."

Dr. Wilson had set up shop in the Commonwealth about ten years ago. He had a few apprentices working under him and learning medicine while they assisted him with his clinic and patients. He was a tall man, with a weak jaw and long brown hair that was tied back in a ponytail. His face was kind enough, but he carried himself as if someone was always out to get him. He was jittery and he scared easily, and Hancock had been known to play off of it to his advantage at times.

The clinic was quiet when Hancock entered, and he figured Wilson had let his staff go for lunch, or even home to sleep. Ever since those five battered patients arrived two days ago, Wilson and his staff had been working around the clock to stabilize them. Hancock had brought a bottle of wine and a pack of cigars for the good doctor to thank him for his efforts, and he figured after the last forty-eight hours, he'd need it.

"He doc! You home?" Hancock shouted.

A clatter came from upstairs and Hancock laughed. He sauntered past the front desk and reception area and headed up the stairs as quiet as he could. He walked onto the second floor where three rooms held Dr. Wilson's office and two patient rooms with four beds in each. Hancock peeked into both patient rooms and noted the white haired woman lying in a room by herself. He shrugged and walked past it to Wilson's office and smiled.

"How you doing today, doc? How're our patients holding up?"

Dr. Wilson turned, his brow sweaty from the stuffy heat of the second floor. The summers always came on fast and hot in the Commonwealth and today it was noticeable. Wilson wiped the perspiration from his forehead and yawned.

"Stable. The rad poisoning turned late last night, and all four in room one are recovering nicely." Wilson led Hancock to room one and they rifled through charts, Wilson explaining state and medical terms and Hancock pretending to understand.

"So… they'll make a full recovery then?" Hancock asked, bemused at Wilson's enthusiasm with his work.

The doctor nodded. "They'll need to rest here for the next week or so, so we can monitor their condition; but they'll be up and about in no time." He nodded towards the tanned blond. "She's the luckiest one. The severe radiation she suffered from coupled with the physical wounds should have killed her; yet, here she is, alive and well. From the marking on her body, I'd say they were attacked by a ghoul horde."

Hancock nodded. "Those ferals can come up and overwhelm you fast, if you aren't prepared. These kids don't seem very seasoned to me. I wonder just what the hell they were doing out there?" He shook his head at the mystery and turned back to Wilson. "How about the other one?'

"Ah, yes, my medical mystery," Wilson mused, leading Hancock to room two. "I must admit that this one has me puzzled."

Hancock frowned. "What do you mean?"

Wilson took the chart next to the bed the woman lay on and flipped through the pages. "Severe radiation poisoning, multiple lacerations and blows to the body, five gunshot wounds; this woman should be dead. Any normal human, synth or even ghoul would have succumbed to any of those injuries shortly after they occurred – save for the rads aiding a ghoul, or course. But that's not the most perplexing part." He moved to the woman's side and beckoned Hancock to stand next to him. "Take a look at this."

Wilson pulled the covers back from the woman and rolled up her clean white shirt. Hancock couldn't help but notice the toned muscles under her creamy white skin and his face grew hot momentarily. He coughed when he realized it wasn't from the summer heat.

"What, uh, what are we looking at, doc?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "See the scar here, along her lower abdomen up to her ribcage?"

The ghoul ran his eyes over the scar and shrugged. "It's an old scar, so what?"

"That's just it," Wilson prodded. "Judging by the tough tissue and how the mark no longer protrudes, I'd gauge this wound to be over a year old. When you brought her in, however, the wound was freshly – and sloppily – stitched and bound. It was still seeping blood as well."

"That's impossible."

"Of course it's impossible," Wilson scoffed. "I'm a doctor, I'm the first to understand just how impossible that is, and yet I pulled fresh stitches from her this morning!" He rolled her shirt back down and covered her again. He turned his attention back to her charts. "She's also completely healed from her radiation sickness with almost no RadAway in her system. Her other wounds have also healed without any scar tissue whatsoever." Wilson sighed and put her chart down, running a hand over his pulled back hair. "I don't suppose I could ask for a favor?"

Hancock shrugged. "Depends what it is. Shoot."

"I want to have her blood analyzed, but I don't have the required equipment. The Institute on the other hand…"

That made Hancock glare. "No," was his simple response, and he walked out of the room to grab a glass for the wine he had brought.

"Come on, Hancock, this is important!" Wilson pressed, following the ghoul into his office. "What if this woman has natural radiation blockers in her biology? What if she's a synthetic with a new component to increase her healing? These are the kinds of discoveries that can rock the world of medicine, and those discoveries could be rushing through that woman's veins as we speak!"

But Hancock wouldn't acknowledge Wilson's protests. He uncorked the wine and poured two glasses as the doctor spoke, offering Wilson the second glass when he was done talking.

"Here," Hancock offered. "You could use it."

Wilson downed the wine in one gulp and slammed the glass onto the side table near the door. He kept his eyes on the glass under his hand instead of meeting Hancock's gaze when he next spoke.

"Goodneighbor knows we're going to be harboring dangerous criminals for Nora."

Hancock glared. "How do you know about that?"

Wilson laughed. "Vincent loves to leak information if it will benefit him in some way or another. We all knew by noon the day you left with Nora and Nick."

The ghoul shook his head, his anger burning a hole in his chest. He took another swig of wine to calm himself. "Well," he said. "Vincent won't be blabbing about our town's affairs anymore in this life, so I guess I'll have to do a little damage control now."

"What did you do?"

"What was necessary."

That sent a chill up the doctor's spine and gulped, his nerves retreating slightly. "Well… what I meant to say is that… that Nora owes you, Hancock. And to miss this opportunity… I just don't know if I could bear it." He finally looked up at the mayor, his eyes pleading. "Please, Hancock, please let me conduct my research."

Hancock groaned. When Wilson was serious about a request, he really knew how to put the sincerity in his voice. He knew word would get out around Goodneighbor eventually about Nora's request, but damned if he didn't want a chance to explain himself to the people first. If it hadn't been for Vincent…

' _And now the fucker's dead. Looks like I'll have some damage control to do…'_

Regardless, he owed Wilson for all of his hard work and dedication, and wine was hardly enough to express his gratitude. He sighed and downed the rest of his wine.

"Only when Nora gets back will I ask. And only if this woman agrees to it."

Wilson beamed. "Thank you, Hancock! This is great news!" He clapped his hands together eagerly and did a small dance in the doorway.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get too excited until we get an official answer," Hancock tried to dampen the mood Wilson was in, but to no avail. He shook his head. "We don't even know when Nora'll be back, all right?"

Wilson calmed himself enough to stand still, but the huge smile was still smeared across his face. "Understood," he said, trying to contain himself.

Shaking his head, Hancock approached Wilson and patted him on the back. "Thank again for all your help, doc. Also, how are the ladies you're treating down at SmoothSkin?"

The doctor's face instantly reddened at the mere mention of the bar and Hancock wondered if he had even stepped foot in the place since checking the women in the first place. Wilson coughed and tried to keep his tone even.

"I have two of my best assistants there keeping a twenty four hour watch on them until all the chems are purged from their systems. Addictol is a dangerous chem to cure addictions when you're that far gone, and we are administering it slowly. My team is the best and I'm sure those… er… ladies will make a full recovery, barring the psychological toll it may take on them."

Hancock nodded. "Good man. Let me take you to the Third Rail once this is all over and we can do some real damage."

Wilson laughed. "I'll hold you to that."

They said their goodbyes, Wilson promising to notify Hancock the moment one of the kids woke up. It was nearing dusk by the time he left the clinic and the decided on a quick meal, then a trip to SmoothSkin to check up on the women in Wilson's extended care.

* * *

 _Sweat began to gather on Hancock's forehead as he kept his face buried in the crook of Nora's neck. He nipped his way around the tender skin, her moan in response nearly sending him over the edge as he pushed into her as deep as he could go. The tight clenching of her muscles created the perfect friction around his member and the natural rough texture of his scarred skin rubbed along her sex perfectly; making Nora thrust herself upwards to meet him._

" _J…John…" she breathed, trying to come to her senses. "John please… oh god… please more. I want more!"_

 _Who was he to deny her?_

 _Grinning, he kissed Nora with a fiery passion that left them both breathless. He brought his mouth down to her breasts and rolled his tongue around her nipples, biting lightly to make her clench around him again._

" _I know what you need," he growled, sitting up on his knees, he heard Nora groan as he pulled out of her. Hancock laughed as he yanked her legs harshly and pushed them so her feet were near the sides of her head. Without another word, he slid himself easily into Nora again, leaning all of his weight onto her and pumping hard, hitting her repeatedly in the spot that made all women moan and lose control. She brought her slender hands up to play with her breasts as she cried out every time he pushed further into her opening. Hancock moaned along with her, relishing her intense heat, twitching and ready for release._

" _Please John! Please!" Nora begged. "I need more! Oh god, please make me cum!"_

 _Hancock watched as Nora became undone, her head rolling to the side as she cried out. Her convulsions came on strong, her muscles pulling Hancock in as he groaned and shot into her, all of him throbbing pleasantly from the release. He bent over to suck her breasts while they both came down off the high, Nora whimpering and clenching again. Finally, he pulled out and collapsed next to her, sighing and staring into her green eyes, content._

" _Goddamn, Nora," Hancock mumbled as he ran a hand through her red hair…_

She smirked. "Still going to call me that, even after all this time, huh?"

Hancock blinked, reality setting in again, watching the green eyes turn amber, and Nora's wavy, full red hair turn straight and thin. In the afterglow of Hancock's orgasm, he had to face the cold hard truth staring back at him.

Crystal gave him a chaste kiss on his lips and rolled out of bed, lighting a cigarette and putting on her thin robe. Hancock slowly brought himself up and took a cigarette for himself, as well. Both sat in silence on the creaky old bed for a time, basking in the sensational aftershocks of sex.

"So," Crystal smirked, eyeing Hancock and his softening erection. "Does this frantic round have anything to do with a trip you took with a certain someone?"

The ghoul glared at her, not saying a word in response.

Crystal scoffed in a sympathetic tone. "And does she even know? I've seen you, Hancock, when we're together like this. You only see her, you only love her. Don't you think she has a right to know?"

He took a long drag. "Even if I told her, it wouldn't change anything."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Too many words were said, too much time has passed, too many feelings were hurt. It's a long list of reasons, Crystal, so take your pick."

Crystal thought for a moment as she stared at the man in her bed. "Huh, you know, for someone with as much influence as you, as much power and respect and kindness for his fellow man as you have, you have a very lonely existence Hancock."

He soured at her words, but he wouldn't deny them. Coming out of his constant high had made him more self-aware in the last few days. Not only was he taking back his town, he would also work on taking back the part of himself that Nora unknowingly held for all these years. He reached out and stroked Crystal's leg, giving her a smile, which she returned.

"By the way, thank you for helping those girls."

Hancock nodded, popping a Mentat in his mouth and leaning back against the wall. "It's my job. I'm just sorry it had the change to happen in the first place."

He had come to SmoothSkin to check on the women Vincent had locked away. Wilson's two assistants were busy checking vitals to give him too much information; but they assured him the women would make a full recovery and that the worst was now over. He noticed the women had more color in their faces now and one was even awake and eating. She cried when Hancock spoke with her, and she thanked him for saving her ten times over. It gave him a warm feeling to know he was helping those who needed it again. To be back into the mayoral duty gave him a deep satisfaction and a sense of power.

So, he had decided to use that feeling and track down Crystal so he could… share his pride, in a sense.

Crystal shook her head. "I still can't believe that fucking asshole Vincent. Killing him was too nice; you should have made him suffer for what he did."

He shrugged. "I'm not the one for torture unless I fell really, _really_ wronged. Vincent was a son of a bitch, but it was better to kill him fast so I can send a message."

"What message?" she asked.

The ghoul locked eyes with her, his gaze dangerous. It made Crystal tighten her thighs as heat built in between her legs. It had been a long time since Hancock had flexed his 'don't fuck with me' muscle, but she loved the results anytime he did.

"That I'm back, and anyone who tries to fuck with me, my town, or anyone in It will _not_ be shown mercy."

He had been caressing her leg gently, but now the caresses were more insistent. A slight moan escaped Crystal's lips and he inched closer to where her thighs met.

"You got time for another round?" Hancock asked, running a hand up and down his swollen shaft, his hips slightly thrusting.

As his hand brushed her sex, Crystal leaned back and groaned. She opened her robe so her hands could pinch and roll her nipples while Hancock brushed against her wet heat.

Crystal grinned. "I'm off shift, so I guess I can give you this one on the house."

She giggled (as much as women in their forties giggled) as Hancock yanked her legs towards him. She lay on the bed, her hands staying busy on her chest as Hancock ran his lips and tongue over her legs, heading up towards her moist and hot center. She cried out when his lips reached her swelled labia and he ran his tongue over her, lapping at her juices and gently nipping and sucking at her bud.

The door suddenly opened and one of the Neighborhood Watch boys came in. Hancock, however, did not stop his ministrations, and that was just fine for Crystal.

"Hancock, sir, news from Dr. Wilson."

Hancock hardly missed a beat. He unlatched himself from Crystal's glistening lips and said, "It can wait. I'm busy." Then, he continued enjoying his feast.

But the young man didn't flinch, or leave. He waited a beat to take in the scene before him, and then spoke again.

"It's the patients in the clinic. One of them is awake, sir."

That gave Hancock pause. He took his mouth off of Crystal, sympathizing with her disappointed groan, and climbed over her to meet her gaze.

"Sorry babe, but duty calls," he said, lining himself up with her entrance. "Maybe a rain check for later tonight?" He slid into her heat and she bucked back, her chest heaving.

After another thrust, she glared. "So you're just going to leave me like this?"

Hancock didn't falter as he continued to slide in and out. He looked back at the young man in the doorway and grinned, noticing the rising predicament in his trousers. He turned back to Crystal and kissed her deeply, pushing inside of her as hard as he could, groaning as her muscles tightened around him.

"I'd never leave you in this state," Hancock replied. He whistled for the messenger in the doorway. "Hey, kid, close the door and come here."

He did as instructed, his eyes wide and Hancock laughed.

"Don't worry kid, Crystal here likes to be shared, and she only bites to get you riled up. What's your name?"

"D-Daniel, sir," he replied.

"Well, Daniel," Hancock began as he pulled himself reluctantly from Crystal. "You treat her right for me, you dig? Crystal likes to be clean before someone else dives into her, you feel me? Eat her out until she begs you to stop, and you'll be her new favorite."

As Hancock was speaking, Daniel was already removing his clothing, desperate to get his hands all over the woman. Hancock laughed at the surprised cry from Crystal as the kid's eager mouth reached her, running his tongue over her folds. He leaned over Crystal and kissed her, enjoying the vibrations she gave off while groaning from Daniel's attention.

"See you later tonight, babe. Enjoy."

Reluctantly, Hancock pulled himself away from the entanglement and dressed himself, praying for his erection to diminish before getting to Wilson's clinic. He left the room, chancing a peek back over his shoulder to see Crystal's legs in the air while Daniel was fucking her furiously. Hancock groaned and closed the door on the way out.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

When Hancock arrived at Wilson's clinic, he was surprised to see the good doctor worked up and looking a little worse for wear. His brown hair, usually pulled back rather neatly, was disheveled with fly-aways all over his head. His glasses were smudged and his attire was wrinkled and only half put together.

Though, to give the man credit, it was nearly two in the morning.

"What's the scoop, doc?" Hancock asked, adjusting his painful crotch gingerly.

Wilson looked up from h is pacing and bounded towards Hancock. "Oh, thank god you're here! She woke up and went frantic! She flipped the bed, pulled the needles from her arm, she went _berserk,_ Hancock!"

Hancock held his hands up to calm the doctor. "Okay, okay Wilson, stay calm. Who woke up?"

Wilson locked eyes and glared. "Which one do you think?"

The ghoul sighed. He supposed one of the weaker ones waking first in a calm, drugged stupor was too much to ask for. He clapped Wilson on the shoulders and nodded. "I'll go up. I'm sure she'll listen to reason… eventually. Well," he laughed, " _my_ reasons, at least."

He sat Wilson down with a stiff drink to calm the jittery doctor and made his way upstairs, his steps heavy on the wood. The summer head didn't slack off, even in the dark of night, and the stuffy upper floor made Hancock groan as his clothes felt too warm and too heavy. He walked to the end of the hallway and listened in from the closed door, expecting a commotion or some sort, or the frantic ramblings of an irate woman; but none came. He took a breath to prepare himself, then, he opened the door.

The woman who had been apparently frenzied only moments ago now sat calmly on top of her upright hospital bed. She sat cross legged atop the bedsheets, her creamy skin exposed as the hospital gown bunched around her hips and backside. Hancock noticed the tense muscles of her arms and how her hands fidgeted in her lap and he sighed. She was just a confused young woman, anxious to see her friends; and he was sure Wilson had initially prevented it, setting off a chain reaction.

So, he removed his red jacket and hung it off of the chair next to her bed, then hung his hat as well and sat down. The woman watched in silence as he rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and then offered the pack over, but she shook her head.

"You wouldn't happen to have anything stronger, would you?"

That made Hancock grin and he pulled out his tin of Mentats, placing it on the bed for her.

After a wary look, she took the tin, inspected it, shook it, then removed the lid. The small box was nearly full of the small white circles and Hancock saw her smirk slightly. She then tipped the entire box upside down, emptying the contents.

"Um, what's the big idea?" he asked, incredulously. It's not that he didn't have a whole store room full of the pills and other chems to boot, but the fact that she discarded all he had offered kind of pissed him off.

But the woman just offered a weak and uncertain smirk as she placed two small pills on the back of the tin box. She then used the lid and began grinding the pills together into a fine, white dust.

"Do you have a pen?"

Hancock quirked an eyebrow (well, at least the place where his eyebrows _used_ to be), and slowly handed a capped pen over to her. He wasn't sure what she planned on doing with it, but a pen could definitely be used to impale sensitive neck areas, so he kept his hand hovering close to his combat knife, just in case she got any ideas. He watched with curiosity as she quickly disassembled the pen, made two neat lines of powder on top of the tin box, placed the pen casing next to a line and the other end to her nose. Then, she snorted, throwing her head back once the line disappeared and wiping the excess powder away with the back of her arm.

The ghoul stared at her, thrown off and intrigued by what he had just witnessed. He gave her a moment to let the drug do its work while he reassessed what he thought he knew about her, then he slapped his knee and laughed, his jovial tone bouncing off of the walls.

"Girlie, I've been alive for the better part of seventy years now, and not _once_ have I ever seen anyone do that! What the fuck was that?"

"Oh," the woman shifted in her spot as she explained. "The membranes in your nose are closely connected to your brain, so snorting powders will get you higher faster. I try not to do it too much - it can really wreck your nose – but after the day I've had…"

Hancock leaned forward in her chair, arms resting on his legs. "Now, you referring to today when you woke up? Or several days ago when you got here?"

The woman's eyes (which were so blue, Hancock was sure he'd drown in their vibrancy) widened for a moment in surprise. Then, she glared, every muscle in her body tensed and Hancock placed his hand back over his concealed knife, glancing at the pen beside her leg.

"Where are my friends? What have you done with them?"

' _Here's the woman Wilson was talking about…'_

"Now, come on girlie, don't get all wound u – "

Before Hancock could finish his sentence, the woman lunged at him, toppling them over the chair and onto the floor. She growled as they wrestled on the wooden planks, knocking over a side table and bumping into the wall. Hancock was surprised at her strength, and slightly unnerved at the wild look in her stunning eyes. He tried to overpower her; tried to get her to calm down and hear him out, but it was like she was on auto-pilot and hell-bent on killing anything that got in her way. He spotted the pen in her hand and quickly blocked it as she tried to plunge it into his throat, his strength beginning to falter under hers.

' _Drastic times, Hancock. Calm this chick down before she kills you…'_

With that in mind, he brought his head back and slammed their foreheads together. She cried out in pain and fell backwards, Hancock following and landing on top of her, using his body to pin her down. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head to the ground, keeping his full weight on her legs as he straddled her. She tried to thrash, but was obviously too weak to give it her all. So she cried out in frustration and bucked her hips to try and throw the ghoul; but to no avail.

Hancock gritted his teeth and pulled his knife from his pocket, pushing it against her throat until her thrashing eased. He watched as her eyes focused again, the reality of her situation finally sinking in. She locked eyes with him and sneered.

"What is it you want?" she demanded.

He grinned. "I'm getting the distinct suspicion that something pissed in your cereal this morning." After a moment of stillness, he eased off of her slowly, gauging her reaction. When she didn't try to kill him again, he stood and offered his hand, pulling her to her feet. He straightened his chair, picked up the dropped cigarette and sat back down, while she leaned against the bed. Hancock took a deep inhale on the stick and relaxed.

"Now, let's start over," He said casually as if the scuffle had never happened. "Name's John Hancock. I'm the guy who runs this town and decided who gets to stay, and who has to leave. You might was not keep that little bit of information tucked away, sister." He waited for her to respond, and when she didn't, he leaned further forward. "And you are…?"

"IS this an interrogation?" she asked flatly, crossing her arms.

"Nah, I'm not about that," he replied, waving his hand. "Besides, as far as we know, you ain't done nothing wrong. I just enjoy getting to know the newbies around here. Especially pretty ones who know how to make an exciting entrance."

Her face softened ever so slightly at Hancock's last remark. She tucked a long chunk of white hair behind her ear and extended her hand, which Hancock took.

"I'm V."

"V?"

"V."

"That short for anything?"

"No."

"Well, all right." Hancock leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Now, you mind sharing just what the hell happened to you and your friends out there?

V took a moment to collect her thoughts and to decide what she could share, and what she wouldn't; but after a few moments, Hancock grew tired of the silence.

"Okay," he sighed. "How about we start with your injuries – or lack thereof? You wanna explain that old scar on your stomach? I'm curious about how you got it."

V shifted uncomfortably. "A gunner got a shot in and gave me a good slice. I had to stitch it up to stop the bleeding."

"Uh huh," Hancock replied, sounding unconvinced. "And it just magically healed itself in a matter of days?"

She shrugged, but Hancock could tell that she was nervous about something.

"Must not have been as deep as I thought," she answered.

"Uh huh," Hancock shook his head. "Look, I got no issues with you and your posse staying here, but you gotta play ball here, you dig? I can't have shit starters doing what they do best around here. Goodneighbor is of the people, for the people, you feel me? So I won't have the people feeling threatened or in danger for no apparent reason.

"So," he continued, inhaling deep on the remainder of his cigarette, stomping the butt beneath his boot. "Why not just tell me where you came from? Then, I'll leave and you can eat, sleep, wait for your friends to wake up; whatever the fuck you want."

"None of them are awake yet?" V stepped away from the bed, her face grim. "Please, just please let me see them. That doctor only told me they were here, not if they were alive, or dead, or sick or whatever. If I can just see them – even only for a moment - I'll tell you whatever you want."

The tone in her voice was sincere and desperate. Hancock sympathized with her and her situation. She had woken up in a strange place, hooked up to an assortment of meds, alone in a room. Wilson had denied her request to see her friends, without any explanation, and it's put her on the defensive. He would have to give a little is he expected to get anything back.

He stood and motioned for her to follow him to the room across the hall. He held the door open and allowed V to enter first. He wanted to gauge her reactions to he could start figuring this girl out. He had to admit, he was thrown when he noticed the tears immediately glistening in her eyes.

For a moment, she stood there in silence, her eyes roaming over each person lying in the beds, clearly trying to process the situation. V took a few trembling steps forward and kneeled next to a younger man, grasping his hand and bowing her forehead to it. Hancock could hear her mumbling and sniffling, trying to conceal her emotions and tears. He took a few steps into the room, closer to the sobbing woman and leaned over, placing a scarred hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, don't go wasting all those tears. Wilson's the best doctor this side of the Commonwealth – also the craziest – and if he said they're going to make it, then they're going to make it."

V lifted her head, but wouldn't meet the ghoul's gaze. She stared at the wall, her tears diminishing. "Thank you," she finally said. "Thank you for saving my friends; for keeping them alive. Ask your questions and I'll try to answer them as best I can."

Hancock motioned to the free chair in the room. "Have a seat."

She did as told, and Hancock noticed something very unsettling in the way she sat. Her back became board straight, her shoulders squared. Both feet were planted firmly on the ground, knees close together with her hands set on top of her lap. Her entire posture was rigid, and she wouldn't make eye contact with him.

' _This girls' been interrogated before,'_ he thought, disdainfully.

"Hey sister, you can look up. I know this ugly mug ain't what it used to be, but I'm not gonna hurt you," Hancock said, trying to lighten the mood. When she finally brought her eyes up to meet his, he felt a small tug at his chest and it took him a second to find his train of thought again. He cleared his throat. "How about telling me where you all came from. Let's start there."

"I met them in New Greenwich. Well, a few miles outside of New Greenwich. Their home was destroyed, and they hired me to take them north."

Hancock lit another cigarette and nodded. "So you're a mercenary then?"

"Something like that," V replied. "We were caught up in a radiation storm on the Neponset trail and a horde of ghouls got the better of us. Amber, the blond one, was overwhelmed and attacked by a pack. We managed to get away, but not without injury and heavy rad poisoning.

"After that, Amber and Rob succumbed to their sickness, and Callie had suffered a concussion. We outran the worst of the horde and the storm, but we were ambushed by gunners. Evan was shot, but I managed to escape with both caravans." She turned her gaze back to her friends, her heart breaking. "We've suffered a lot to get here, and the journey was tough. I can still hardly believe we made it."

"So why here?"

She snapped her gaze back up at Hancock. "What?"

Hi eyes narrowed. "Why come to the Commonwealth, of all places?"

"Well," V hesitated for only a moment, but Hancock was able to pick up on it. "It's where they asked me to bring them. I assumed they knew someone? There are rumors that it's becoming one of the safest locations in the Wasteland. We heard the Institute is making major positive changes."

That made the ghoul scoff. "Yeah, they're real gems down there in their hole." He took another drag off his cigarette, sensing the tension in the air and her anxiety. "So, are you a synth?"

Her face was stoic, but he could see the fear behind her eyes as she stared at him. Unblinking, she finally answered, "Yes."

Hancock laughed. "I knew it! Ha! I knew you had to be a synth!"

V began to rise from her seat, but Hancock motioned for her to sit.

"It's okay, it's okay. Don't worry sister, Goodneighbor is for everybody. You don't have to worry about the Institute here."

She frowned. "Are they something to fear out here?"

"Used to be," Hancock replied, scratching his head. "They've got a new Director who's trying to change things. I think she's a bit over her head, though." He nodded towards her. "You, uh, planning on heading there?"

"Not really," she lied. "I think they want to settle down somewhere and start over. Each of them has their own special talents and all together they put on a real mean show – "

"Show?"

She nodded. "Yeah, show. You know, with the guitars and the drums and the singing? They're real good."

"And what about you?" he asked.

"I'm under their employ," she shrugged and began to relax her posture. "I'll go where they go until the tell me to leave."

Hancock narrowed his gaze. "Pretty loyal for hired help there, sister."

V laughed, but didn't really answer Hancock's question. She turned her gaze, instead, to the people still asleep in the beds and she smiled faintly. She sighed. "They've kind of grown on me. Besides, I'm a much better shot than most, and they need protecting."

Hancock nodded, mostly satisfied with her answers so far. He watched her yawn and stretch, and found himself mesmerized again by the small yet strong muscles flexing under her skin. She had a physique he had not seen around the Wasteland since the Brotherhood of Steel had been around. Her body was clearly toned like a soldier's, but long like someone who stretched for a living. Her hair looked so soft and the silver reflected the dim light and he almost swore her white locks shimmered. He fought a sudden urge to shove his hands into it to see if it was as silky as it looked, and he cleared his throat, intent on changing the subject. He had a plan formulating in his brain, but he needed time to think it over.

So, he clapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself up, ginning down at her.

"You should get some sleep," he said finally. "I'll come back in the morning to check on you."

V didn't argue. She allowed herself to be led back to her room and into her bed. He bid his farwells and he left the clinic in the dead of night; bypassing the bars, the strip club where Crystal was probably still waiting for him, and he headed home. The entire time, his mind was racing as he thought about how he could make these newcomers useful to him and the town.

' _I could think of a few useful things that synth could do…'_ he thought, his crotch coming to attention before he could push the thought from his mind.

"Let's not even open _that_ bag of garbage," he muttered to himself, readjusting his trousers.

When he got to his home at the Old State House, he pulled out his UltraJet and the Day Tripper he had confiscated from Vincent's stash and indulged in both. He lay back on his bed and groaned, feeling his muscles relax and the tension run out of his body as he let the drugs take effect. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of red hair mixed with white, and blue eyes that would blink to green…

* * *

Hancock was true to his word and checked up on V after a morning of sorting and cataloging Vincent's warehouse with Hamm. He was amazed to see her doing pushups on the floor in her friend's room.

"Maybe don't push yourself too hard, sister," he offered his hand to help her to her feet, which she took.

"Work outs help to clear my mind and keep me sharp," she explained wiping her brow with the baggy sleeve of her shirt. "Besides, it's boring as fuck in here."

Hancock looked around and sighed. She was right. The clinic walls were dull and colorless, like all the other buildings it was devoid of any pictures or books or games to keep someone entertained. Even the radio had been denied here. Hancock clicked his tongue and nodded.

"Well, when you're right, you're right," he agreed and smirked. He leaned out the doorway of room one. "Hey, Wilson! You got anything down there to entertain this poor girl up here?!"

"This is a hospital, Hancock!" Wilson shouted back. "IF you want to be entertained, go to the lousy bar! She needs rest! Not excitement!"

V rolled her eyes. "Yeah, cause the world is just _so_ exciting nowadays."

Hancock laughed. "Tell you what; I gotta go take care of some business for a few hours. How about I come back with some real food and cards? You know how to play poker?"

"IS that a serious question?" she asked incredulously, he hands resting on her hips.

"Ha! All right sister, prepare for an ass whoopin' of great proportions."

He left the clinic after that and headed back to the warehouse where Hamm was waiting. Hancock nodded to the two new guards at the entryway and they politely opened the door for him. Hancock walked between Vincent's old guards – his newest security – and entered the office. He grinned when he saw Hamm sitting with his feet up on the desk and his hat over his eyes, obviously sleeping.

Smirking and trying not to laugh, Hancock stepped lightly towards the desk and raised his hands high. He let a moment pass and then slammed his hands down on the desktop hard enough to sting, sending Hamm into a frenzied state, his chair tipping backwards. The ghoul went flying back, yelling loud and collapsing on the floor.

Hancock burst out laughing and peered across the desk to his friend and bodyguard.

"Hamm! Ha ha! Oh, sorry man I didn't – ha ha! – I didn't think -!"

His laughter overtook his words as Hamm grumbled and stood up, brushing off his black pin strip suit and straightening his fedora.

"You're in a chipper mood now, more than when you left," Hamm said, his tone sour.

"Oh come on, I said I was sorry," Hancock said, his tone apologetic. "I didn't think you'd actually fall over, Hamm. Seriously, you okay?"

"I'm fine boss," Hamm replied. "Just surprised." He sat back down and Hancock sat across from him, respecting the space as Hamm's office. "You find anything out about this girl?"

Hancock leaned back. "She's definitely not telling me the whole story. Something's funny about the way she reacts to things."

"She's a synth, though?"

He nodded. "A synth who hasn't really any knowledge of the Institute. Not uncommon around here, but still…" He popped a Mentat and lit a cigarette, offering to Hamm who took a stick to light as well. "Plus, she's incredibly disciplined for a mercenary; she's built like a soldier. I fucking caught her this morning doing pushups in the clinic, for christ sake."

Hamm couldn't help but snicker. "Eyeing up the newcomers already, boss?"

Hancock rolled his eyes. "She's wearing a makeshift hospital gown, Hamm. You can't hide legs and arms in those things." He inhaled deep and shook his head. "The point I'm making is that I think there's a lot more to this group than meets the eye. I gotta play real nice if I'm gonna attempt to get any answers; and I'm gonna need your help to figure them out."

Hamm nodded. "Anything, boss."

"Get a team together to go scout out Combat Zone. I want a report in two days' time. I have a plan to put this woman to work, if she accepts it. If not, then I'll need to make other arrangements for these slaver assholes; but we can't let their little encampment continue for much longer."

"You think she'll play ball with us?"

Hancock shrugged. "It would be a convenient way to test out her skills and see if she makes it back alive with whoever she takes with her. If not, then I'm sure they'll be on their way. We can manage on our own, but I think people's faith in me might be a bit shaky right now, so sending in strangers rather then our own might put the people's minds at ease."

"Don't worry boss; it won't take long to get everyone back on your side. Vincent was a slimy chump and everyone knew it. We were all just waiting for you to come back."

Hamm's sentiment made Hancock smile. He nodded his thanks and sat back again, enjoying the cigarettes and Mentats while he and Hamm sat in silence. After a little more idle chit chat, Hancock said his goodbyes and left to go eat and review some reports given to him from the Watch. When he had finished, the sun was setting and twilight had settled over the town. Usually, Hancock would meander down to the Third Rail to begin his night of inebriation; however, he had told V he would return. SO, he packed up cards, booze and chems and headed over to Wilson's clinic.

"Absolutely not," Wilson said as soon as Hancock entered the clinic. He was busy stitching up a man's arm when the ghoul arrived, but the doctor was no stranger to Hancock's antics. Wilson had seen the bottle of whiskey in his bag and glared. "She needs rest, not alcohol."

"Awe, c'mon doc!" Hancock coaxed. "It's just a drink or two and a game of cards. No need to get crotchety about it," he grinned. "Besides, my position trumps yours and I have a duty to make our guests feel welcome."

Wilson shook his head and continued his work. "I'm not picking you up off the floor this time, Hancock."

"Understood," he replied while making his way to the stairs. "So, why don't you join us when you're done? You can keep an eye on me."

Wilson didn't reply, but Hancock was confident that the doctor would join them in the end. So he made his way upstairs and was welcomed by seeing V sitting on the edge of her friend's bed and talking quietly with him. Hancock peeked in and gently cleared his throat.

"Sorry to interrupt…"

V looked up at him and shook her head. "You aren't. I'm just trying to will these guys awake."

"Ah, give it another day or so, huh?" he offered. "You kids have been through a lot. Besides, I got cards, I got booze and I got a wide assortment of chems for whatever ails you that Wilson won't provide."

That made V crack a small smile. "Sounds good. For a doctor, he's really not one to hand out the chems, huh?"

Hancock laughed. "His moral code is much stronger than mine, it seems. Let's go, sister."

They set up in Wilson's office, playing cards across the desk from each other. V crunched up a healthy dose of Mentats for the both of them and Hancock had to admit the sensation was much more satisfying and instantaneous. He shuffled as she rummaged in his bag of chems. He saw her eyes light up as she pulled out a small bag full of Wilson's herbal concoction.

"What is this?" she asked vehemently.

Hancock grinned. "A new thing one of Wilson's assistants is creating. There are three different kinds of, but that one is an 'herbal stimulant'. You ever heard of it?"

V shook her head. "No, but it looks like a drug I used to… I mean one that I heard of from pre-war times. You got a cigarette?"

Hancock handed her his pack of smokes and he watched V disassemble a stick and stuff the herbs inside. She then lit up and inhaled, taking a huge breath and closing her eyes to relish the feeling of the drug entering her system.

"This brings back memories," she mused with a relaxed smile on her face.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Memories of what?"

Her eyes shot open at that question, and she coughed furiously, her concentration broken. She mentally kicked herself for letting that remark slip. No way she was going to let on just how old she really was, and how she really got there; not when she wasn't sure where this man stood synths and the Institute and all of her messed up being. "Oh! Nothing!" she managed to say through her coughing fit. "Come on, let's play some cards."

So they drank and smoked and talked on and off until Wilson joined them, scowling at Hancock for allowing V to have free reign over the chems.

"Ah Wilson, she's fine, see?" Hancock urged.

The doctor shook his head. "I still don't approve of this."

"Then thank god I'm a big girl who can make her own decisions," V replied.

Wilson soured and stood up after the game was over. "I should go check on your friends."

"Well, he's a real stick in the mud," V grumbled as soon as Wilson had cleared the room.

"Give the guy a break," Hancock replied. "He's the one who saved your friends' lives." He reshuffled and they began another game. IT wasn't much longer after the cards were dealt when Wilson came back into the room, his demeanor changed from sour to excited.

"There is someone in the next room who wants to say hi."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Instantly, V was on her feet and racing past Wilson to get to the room across the hall. She stopped in the doorway and her heart leapt to see Evan, Rob and Callie all sitting up and talking quietly. They looked up when they saw V, their faces weary and weathered, but her smiled reflected onto them.

"Hey V," Evan said, his smile the widest.

V took a trembling step forward, then another, using caution so as not to wake up from this dream. Her eyes were wide as she got closer to Evan's bed and she dared to reach out and touch his shoulder. Evan laughed weakly and pulled her to him, embracing her strong yet shaking frame.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," V finally sobbed, burying her face into his shoulder.

Evan groaned. "Easy on the shoulder! Pain! So much pain…"

"Sorry!" V whipped back and they both laughed, wiping away at their tears.

"It's good to see you, too," Evan finally said, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

V looked to Callie and Rob, her heart swelling. "Are you two okay?"

"Small headache," Callie answered.

"Yeah, just sore all over," Rob replied. "What the hell happened, V?"

"After the ghouls, you got sick from the radiation. You passed out," V explained. "We were jumped by gunners and Evan was shot. I took care of them, but got pretty beat up in the process. Callie came to and helped patch me up, thankfully. We rode hard to get here, Callie passed out just before we got here to Goodneighbor. I woke up early yesterday morning." She stared down at her hands, not willing to make too much eye contact yet. "I'm sorry, you guys. I'm so sorry I drug you all into this mess. Maybe Callie was right. Maybe you all should have stayed in Greenwich."

Evan scoffed. "Come on now, we decided a long time back that we were in this together. What happened was just really, _really_ bad luck; but it wasn't your fault."

That made V's eyes overflow. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her body shaking. Evan pulled himself slowly over to her and held her, trying to ease her emotions.

Hancock and Wilson had just peeked into the doorway as the two were embracing, and both felt a bit awkward observing such an intimate scene. Wilson cleared his throat to announce his presence and entered the room to check on the newly awoken patients.

"Let's just see how you're all doing," Wilson said, shining his flashlight in their eyes and checking their healing wounds. He went to Evan first and unwrapped his fractured arm from his neck, slowly moving the limb this way and that. "Hmm," he said. "This is looking much better. Those Stimpaks work wonders on bones. Just keep this from doing any strenuous movement and you'll be fine in a few more days."

Evan nodded his thanks, rubbing his arm gently.

Hancock walked into the room and looked to V. "I'm going to head out. It's late and I'm sure you want some time with your employers… friends… whatever. I'll be by the day after tomorrow to discuss some things with all of you. Until then, get some rest."

As Hancock left, V collected herself and sat up straight, watching Wilson as he worked. Wilson spoke in a few doctor terms and made it around the room until he reached Amber. He sat gently next to her on the bed and listened to her heart beat, then he checked on her wounds and if she reacted to any type of stimulus.

V could see Rob's face through all of this and the pain reflected in his eyes made her heart break.

Callie, who was closest to Amber's bed, finally broke the tense silence. "Is she ever going to wake up?"

Wilson didn't answer until he was done his checkup. After putting the bedsheets back up to Amber's shoulders, he nodded.

"I'm sure she'll be awake soon. She didn't have any extreme head trauma. Her comatose state isn't permanent. Our bodies tend to shut down until they're healed, so I'm sure she has only a small bit of recovery left to do." He gazed around the room and saw all of the concerned looks. "You should all try talking to her, it can really help." He stood and headed for the door, stopping in the archway. "I'll send out for dinner; I'm sure you're all starving."

V waited until the doctor's footsteps faded as he descended the stairs. Once she was positive they were out of earshot, she spoke.

"I lied about why we're here," she said.

All eyes turned to her and she sighed.

Callie glared. "Why did you lie? Wasn't the whole point of this journey to get to the Commonwealth and ask about the Institute and people who could help us? Help you? Lying seems pretty counterproductive."

V ignored the hostility in her voice. "I'm not sure. I spoke briefly about the Institute, and the mayor got _very_ defensive. It seems the Institute is not the great savior of the Wasteland that us southerners thought. Or… maybe they are now and weren't before?" V shook her head. "The point is, I didn't tell the truth because I don't want to get locked up or sent away for testing, and I'm not sure yet where everyone stands on the chessboard. It's too dangerous to assume that anyone is on our side or wants to help us yet."

Evan nodded. "That makes sense. What do you think Rob? Uh, Rob?"

But Evan's brother simply wasn't listening. He was fixated on Amber's sleeping body, his mind wandering and sifting through an endless ocean of 'what ifs' and 'should haves'. Her slim figure seemed even smaller now in the hospital bed; her skin color was a pallid shade he had never seen before. Rob slowly stood, his body not quite feeling like his own as he floated over to Amber's side and sat down next to her, reaching out a shaking hand, he wrapped it around her small once and tried to hold back his tears. He tried to piece together the events in his head, but all he could remember were the ghouls, and the sickening dread that burrowed in the pit of his stomach at the thought of losing her.

Now, seeing her like this in the bed, that feeling returned.

Callie had walked over to her older brother and draped her arms around him, hugging him close. "She's going to wake up," she said. "Amber is way too strong to give up in a dingy hospital bed."

Rob didn't answer, but he did hug her back.

Callie turned her brown eyes over to her twin and his best friend. She did her best to hide the anger in her voice, and mostly her words came out as tired.

"No more," she said. "No more travelling, no more fighting, no more violence. We're done."

"Callie," Evan warned, his body tensing. "That isn't fair for you to just decide for us. We went over this in Brockton Pass, we are sticking together."

"I'm not saying we split apart, Evan," she shot back. "I'm saying we stay here and try to make a life again. We can't keep going like this, or we're going to get killed. Dad wanted us to stay together, but do you think he really expected all of _this_ to happen?"

Evan clenched his fists. "So you think V will be safe here? With that madman still on the run? He knows where she is, Callie. He's still going to follow her, and you want to put this entire town in danger?"

"Enough!" V finally shouted. "Honestly, you two are almost worse than Alistair at times." She rubbed at a suddenly pulsating headache and sighed. "You both have valid points, but Evan, Callie is right. I mean, look at Amber; we don't even know what physical state she'll be in when she wakes up. I won't be responsible for your deaths, so, I think we should stay here."

Evan shook his head. "We can't let Crowley get the upper hand, V. Otherwise, what was this entire journey for?"

"I know, I get what you're saying," V agreed. "But, from here we have an advantage."

"Which is?"

"This entire town," V answered. "Maybe we can get the mayor on our side of things and he can help us out? Either that, or we go to the Institute to get help there, but we need more time. We have to assess and go over our options together."

Evan frowned, still unconvinced. "And if Crowley attacks us before we're ready?"

V turned somber. "They we deal with it if the time comes." She grabbed Evan's hand a smiled a very tired smile. "I know it's hard to just sit, trust me; but we don't really have a choice right now."

He let go of a long held breath and sulked. "I just want to keep us safe, is all. I'm not sure if this is the best way to do it."

"If for any reason the danger gets out of control, we'll leave. We'll run as fast and as far as we can," V said. "Agreed?"

Reluctantly, Evan nodded. "Just… please keep your wits about you. We've gotten careless before with a sense of safety and we nearly were killed, remember? Even before we started our journey, we were tricked into false security."

V nodded. "I know, Evan, I know. We've had a lot of close calls, but we've made it out time and time again. Hopefully our luck remains." She stood. "Anyways, back to the lie. As far as anyone needs to know, you hired me _after_ the farm was destroyed to bring you north. You wanted to come here to resettle and start over."

Evan cocked an eyebrow. "Why disassociate yourself from us?"

V stared at Evan, motioning to her pale skin compared to his much darker, chocolate colored skin. "Saying we're family would only bring on more questions. We don't exactly look alike, here. There way, if we're caught in a lie, I can take all of the blame."

After some time had passed, Rob eventually came to and was brought up to speed on the plan. He agreed with all of it, hardly caring for any of it, his only concern remaining with Amber. When the doctor returned with food, he checked Amber's vitals again and only reconfirmed that she would be okay, it would just take time for her body to mend. Rob at afterwards, but nothing had any taste.

As the night wore on, Evan, Callie and Rob began to tire. V saw the sleepy gazes and became aware of the time.

"Guess we better get some rest," she said, standing and stretching. "I'm sure you could all use it."

She said her good nights and left to go to her own bed. It wasn't until she entered the room that she realized just how tired she really was. She wearily crawling into her bed and pulled the sheets over herself, closed her eyes, and drifted off.

* * *

" _Psst! Evan… Evan!"_

 _Evan's eyes flew open and he sat up in a groggy panic._

" _Shh!" V pressed a finger to her lips. "You'll wake the whole house."_

 _Evan wiped the crusted sleep from his eyes and peered in front of him, his eyes adjusting to the dark. "V?" he asked. "Ah fuck, you scared the shit out of me." He flopped back down on his pillow and sighed._

 _V frowned and whipped the blankets off the bed._

" _Hey!"_

" _Shh!" she shushed again, her eyes darting around the room. "You're gonna wake everyone up!"_

" _V, what are you doing in my room?" Evan demanded, impatient to go back to the bed that was calling his name with its soft, warm blankets._

 _But V remained cryptic. She just grinned and threw his jeans at him. "Get dressed and you'll find out. I'll meet you on the porch in five minutes." She stopped at the doorway and turned. "Trust me, it'll be worth it."_

 _Evan met V at the front door, bundled up to protect himself from the chill that bit on most fall evenings. He was rarely up at this time, and he always marveled at just how quiet their little homestead was. During the day you would sometimes hear guns firing off in the distance, or the mooing of the brahmin in the back. At night, however, there was just silence._

" _So what are we doing?" Evan asked again. "Dad will freak if he finds out we're gone."_

" _Don't worry," V reassured, starting to walk away from Evan down the path beside the house. "We'll be back in a few hours."_

 _Evan followed. "A few hours?! No. No way. I'm going back to bed – "_

 _But V had run back to him and grabbed his arm before he opened the front door._

" _We're going to finally repair those turrets," she explained, a satisfied smile creeping across her lips._

 _Evan dropped his hand from the door handle and frowned. "What are you talking about?"_

 _She kept her smile and started down the path again, motioning for Evan to follow. "Come on," she urged. "I promise we'll be back shortly, and I'll explain everything on the way. You just have to trust me."_

 _But that was the point Evan wasn't sure of yet, and he wasn't sure traipsing around the Wasteland at night was really the smartest thing. Weren't there other types of trust exercises? Couldn't they just fall and catch one another blindfolded? He knew the turrets had to be repaired, and that the responsibility ultimately fell to him, but still, is the risk of a stranger leading him away from his home and into the night worth it?_

 _V noticed his internal struggle and she smiled. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so the first night I was here, Evan. I know I'm still new here, but you're just going to have to trust that I can be a big help to you and your family."_

 _So Evan took the risk and hoped it wouldn't get him killed._

 _V was happy to see him catching up to her and she waited until they could walk side by side. She didn't want to talk until she was sure they were a safe distance from the house where their voices wouldn't carry as far. Once she concluded they were far enough away, she started talking._

" _When we went into town yesterday, I went around finding information on turrets. I found a store, a small one filled with electronic parts and small machinery – run by an old buy name Sturges, I think. Anyways, he gave me the exact list of everything we need to build a turret from scratch, so it should give you all the information you need to fix them! I tried to buy the components there, but it's like you said, they are way too expensive, and he didn't haven all we probably needed. So, Sturges told me to be on the lookout for old raider encampments or factories, gas stations or rail stations. As luck would have it, I noticed a gas station on the way back from town, only a few miles north east of here."_

 _Evan eyes V skeptically, overwhelmed by all she just told him. "Why are you doing this?" he asked._

" _I'm sorry?"_

 _Evan sighed. "It's just… You've only been with us for what, two weeks? Why help us if you don't know if you're staying? I mean, you barely even know us, so why are you helping?"_

 _V fell silent and took some time to mentally chew on Evan's words. What he said was true. She had only been staying with them for barely two weeks, but they had taken her in so willingly. She was wary at first, unsure if their motive was just; but in her few days there, she came to learn they were just a family trying to get by in a world that couldn't care less about them. They had established something wonderful and whole at that farm, and V wanted to be sure it survived and flourished._

 _Also, she had a fuck-ton of sins to make up for._

" _Look, I just want to help," she finally said. "And you've given me a way to do that."_

 _He listened patiently to V's reasoning and heard the sincerity in her voice. He still had a strange feeling in his stomach, but he knew the turrets needed to be fixed. If this was the only to get it done, then so be it._

" _We need aluminum and steel to reinforce them," Evan explained. "Screws for the plates and oil to get them to run again. The most important part would be the replacement gears. I'll need a lot of different sizes to make sure we have all of our bases covered."_

 _V nodded. "Let's pick up our pace, then. The gas station is only another three miles up."_

" _Wait, what if we run into trouble?"_

 _V scoffed. "This late at night? Unlikely. However," she pulled two pistols from the empty backpack she had on her shoulders and tossed one to Evan. "Take this, just in case."_

" _Thanks, but I'm not a very good shot," Evan admitted, examining the pistol._

" _Well then, let's hope you won't need it," V replied, then broke into a light jog, Evan following close behind._

 _They reached the station relatively quickly and they dropped behind a car before getting too close to scope the place and catch their breath. In the distance, the gas station looked quiet and abandoned. There was no faint light coming from the windows, no campfires were burning outside, and there were certainly no persons patrolling the outskirts. V quickly used her infrared to check for any heat signatures and when she found none, she grinned._

" _Okay, so here's what we're going to do," she began, checking her gun. "I'll cover you and keep watch while you go in and decide what you need. You've got about one hour to do it, and then we should head back."_

 _Evan nodded and followed behind V as they approached the building. The night weather was fair, but a small breeze blew through and made metal clang every so often, initially making his adrenaline race. V entered the gas station first to do a sweep before he could go in, leaving Evan to examine the old gas pumps._

 _He ran his hand over the cold and rusted metal, feeling a touch of nostalgia for an era he never got to experience. He could never fathom what the world was like before the bombs, but he would dream of it at times. He imagined a world of innovation and color, where people knew their neighbors and children could play together without fear of mutated creatures or bad people coming to take them away. He'd like to think he'd have had tons of friends, he'd excel in a real school, and his mother would still be alive._

" _So many possibilities squandered," he mumbled._

" _Evan," V called quietly from the building. "It's all clear. Go ahead and I'll monitor the perimeter. Be fast."_

 _Evan nodded and walked into the gas station, bypassing the old vending machines full of decomposed and petrified snacks and the cash register on the counter full of what he could only surmise was pre-war cash. He walked over to the attached garage and set to work searching and sorting through tool boxes, benches, lockers and random crates. There were plenty of useful tools still left over among other small treasures that he couldn't bear to pass up. He opened up the backpack V had given him and began loading it up. He was almost ecstatic to find cans of oil and lots of scrap metal lying about. He busied himself with filling the pack, not wanting to leave anything important behind. Evan made his way through the back garage and into a side office where he stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open._

 _He had walked into a small office with a computer, still in relatively good condition, sitting on a desk. Near the desk was a box of circuit boards, wires and other parts used for computers and machinery and Evan nearly trembled with excitement. He took a hesitant step forward, and then another, reaching out his hand to press the power button and the screen lit up with green text scrawled across it._

 _The young man actually let out a quiet squeal of excitement._

" _V! Hey V!" he called out. "We've gotta get this back to the farm! I can't believe we actua – OOF!"_

" _Get down and shut up!"_

 _V had crashed into Evan and sent him sprawling to the floor. His head narrowly missed the edge of the desk as he hit the floor, but he did manage to scratch his cheek on the way down. He frowned and tried to wriggle free from V's body, but he couldn't seem to escape._

" _What's the big idea – "_

" _Shh!" V shushed, keeping him in place and straining to hear. It only took a moment for the voices and the footsteps to become loud enough for both to hear. The footsteps were heavy and clumsy, easily knocking over whatever was in its path with no concern for the noise it made._

" _Stupid human running scared," a gruff voice spoke up, the tone mocking._

" _No match for us," another grumbled. "Human hiding in here somewhere."_

 _The voices sounded unnatural to Evan; ghoul-like yet more… unintelligent. He had never heard anything like it before, but a severe chill ran up his spine nonetheless as they lay there, waiting for the danger to pass. However, after a few moments of hiding, it was clear that the voices were looking for someone, and the way V was whispering curses, Evan guessed it was here they sought._

" _What's going on?" Evan whispered._

 _V shook her head. "I got careless and lost in thought," she explained in a hushed tone. "Two straggler Super Mutants caught my form outside the station."_

" _Wait – What?!"_

 _Evan's voice was still quiet, but his panic raised the volume a tad, and V had to slap her hand over his mouth. Evan had never seen a Super Mutant before, and never had the want to. He had heard from travelers and people in town talk about the large, mutated war machines and the lengths of their viciousness. He'd heard they're big, green, and some of the toughest fighters in the Wasteland and that few who have encountered them get to live to talk about it._

 _V felt Evan's heartbeat accelerate and could feel the tremors in his body. The young man began to hyperventilate into V's hand and she quickly moved it to he could breathe._

" _Just breathe," she urged. "Go slow. It's okay…"_

 _But Evan was finding it impossible to calm down and V was sure they were going to be discovered._

" _What's that noise?" a mutant bellowed. Now, the footsteps were coming closer to the door and V could hear the familiar clinking noise and the scuffle of heavy machinery. Her eyes went wide as she instantly threw herself over Evan._

" _Don't move!" she yelled._

 _A second later, bullets began ripping through the wall in rapid succession. Evan screamed; he couldn't help it. This was only the second time he'd ever encountered a hostile with a gun, and he didn't know how to react. He was trembling below V's body and just barely keeping it together so he wouldn't soil himself._

" _STUPID HUMAN! DIE NOW!" the mutant yelled._

" _What are we going to do?!" Evan cried._

 _V growled once the shooting had stopped. "Give me your gun."_

 _Evan did without question. He watched V and her vibrant eyes turn focused and severe. He could swear he heard her growling like an animal. He heard her tell him not to move, he watched her turn towards the door, he heard the strange clink! clink! clink! of something on the floor and watched V dive towards the door. Evan watched as V threw a grenade out the door and into the hallway; the subsequent BOOM! shaking the walls and loosening debris from the ceiling that fell on his head. His heart beat faster and his panic rose as gunfire erupted around him in the hall. Evan felt the room spinning, he felt as if he was floating – and he watched as his vision turned to black and all went silent._

" _Evan… Evan…"_

 _The young man groaned as he heard the soft calling of his name. His head was pounding and all he wanted was to roll over and go back to sleep._

" _Evan… Come on, Evan, wake up!"_

 _Evan's eyes snapped open as soon as he remembered that he wasn't in his bed, and there were currently Super Mutants trying to kill them. He sat up and stared at V, eyes wide and panicked._

 _She was dirty, blood was splattered on her face, and she was catching her breath. She gave Evan a weary smile to reassure him that the worst was over._

" _It's okay," she wheezed. "They're dead."_

 _He nodded, but his eyes wandered downward to her tied off blue t-shirt she wore under her black leather jacket. Her exposed midsection was covered in red, and her shirt had four holes in it, the fabric dark with blood._

" _You're shot!" he exclaimed, immediately reaching for her to inspect her injury._

 _V was puffing still, but she managed to keep her small smile as she waved his hands away. "I'm fine."_

" _No, V," Evan interjected. "You really need to lie down. Those are serious shots. You're bleeding everywhere!"_

 _But V just chuckled as Evan tried to fuss. She figured it was best for him to find out before he fainted from panic again; so she lifted her shirt gingerly to expose the bullet holes. The four wounds were already beginning to heal and close, the blood not congealed. She watched Evan inspect her stomach, his fingers tracing her skin lightly, and then she let him turn her to see her back where the exit wounds were healing just as nicely._

" _I-I… I don't understand…" he stammered._

 _V laughed and winced at the searing pain still in her abdomen. "I'm not… exactly one hundred percent human…"_

 _It was like Evan's brain had turned to mush and processing statement like that took a few extra minutes. He slowly raised his eyes to hers and V watched as his fear sunk in. He took his hands away from her and slowly tried to step away in an awkward crouch. He fell on his ass and that sent him scrambling for the other side of the room._

 _V huffed. "Come on now, don't freak out," she said as she watched Evan huddle against the opposing wall, his body trembling. "I_ _ **am**_ _human… just kind of also synthetic. I'm fast and I'm strong and I can take a ton of hits before falling."_

" _This isn't real. This… this_ _ **can't**_ _be real," Evan said to himself. He was staring at the woman in front of him as if she was from another planet, rocking himself gently._

 _Frowning, V slowly approached Evan, sitting next to him as he rocked. "Hey," she said. "Come on, it's still me. I still play chess, and help out at the farm and we crack jokes and make meals together and talk. Just… now you know my secret."_

" _Your secret?"_

 _She laughed. "What? You think I go around parading myself? I think you would have heard of me by now, had I never stumbled onto your farm. The girl who can lift cars and practically clear a building in a single bound!" She saw that Evan's demeanor hadn't changed and she sighed, turning serious. "No, Evan, no one else knows about the things I can do. No one else_ _ **can**_ _know about it."_

" _Not even dad? Rob or Amber? Callie?"_

" _ **Especially not them**_ _."_

" _Why not?"_

" _I can't tell you that," she said. "I wish I could, but it's too dangerous."_

" _You're_ _ **not**_ _human, are you?" Evan asked, his eyes focusing on V._

 _She hesitated. "Yes… and no. It's complicated. I'll say that I used to be a lot more human than I am now."_

 _Evan didn't look convinced, and to V he looked more skeptical and terrified then she had ever seen him. V let out a long and exasperated sight and grabbed Evan's hand, ignoring his flinching._

" _Look, I promise I'll explain one day, Evan, I do; but now just isn't the time. We_ _ **have**_ _to get out of here and back to the farm before daylight. Did you get everything you needed?"_

 _Evan suddenly shot to his feet and looked around the room frantically._

" _Shit!"_

 _He ran over to the desk that the old computer had been sitting on and groaned when he saw the box littered with bullet holes. Evan tinkered for a moment or two but gave up trying to revive the machine, and instead, he opened it up._

" _Get me that box full of spare parts in the corner over there," he ordered, seemingly forgetting the past five minutes of conversation as he worked._

 _V did as instructed and watched Evan disassemble the computer with expert precision._

" _I had hoped to bring an operational computer back, but maybe I'll have near enough parts left over to try and build one," he explained while filling the box. "Until then, I've at least got enough to fix and maintain the turrets for a good while."_

 _V kept shifting her eyes around; nervous of the time it was taking to leave. "Are you good?" she asked._

 _Evan stood with the box and nodded._

" _Good," V replied. "Then let's get back before the sun comes up._

* * *

"You look lost in thought."

Evan snapped back to reality and took another bite of cereal, his stomach growling in appreciation. The morning had come too fast and he wanted to sleep longer, but Dr. Wilson had come to do a routine check up on everyone and his assistant had come with breakfast. So now they all sat up (except Amber, who was still unconscious) and were eating. Evan couldn't remember the last time Sugar Bombs cereal had tasted so delicious.

Evan turned to V and smiled. "Just remembering."

"Remembering what?"

He grinned. "The time we snuck out to that gas station to get parts for our turrets; the day I found out about your secret."

V nodded, pensive as she recalled the memory. "I thought you'd never speak to me again."

"Eh," he shrugged. "Not like there was anyone else to talk to. Family gets pretty tedious and boring after they hang around for your whole life."

Rob and Callie both glared at their brother… until everyone exploded into a fit of boisterous and much needed laughter.

It was shortly after breakfast and halfway into a game of Blast Radius that a knock came at their door. A young man came in unannounced and started throwing bundles of fresh clothing items on everyone's beds. He stated, very formally, "Hancock would like to see V, and anyone else with the strength to follow. Meet him in the Old State House near the town's main gate in two hours."

Then, the kid left without another word.

"What the hell was that about?" Rob asked, putting his now empty cereal bowl down and inspecting the clothes that had been provided.

"What do you think he wants?" Callie added.

V thumbed the soft leather of the jacket that was lying with her clothing bundle and felt the padding inside. It had been lined with ballistic fiber. She shook her head and scoffed.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it has more to do with guns then with farming."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

To say the day was hot would be the understatement of a lifetime. The sun was beating down, removing any residual coolness from the previous night and making the buildings and road dance and shimmer in front of their eyes. There were barely any people out and V was sure it was due to the heat.

Even she could feel the effects of the sun blazing down on them. The leather jacket she had been supplied was thick and heavy with the ballistic lining and she finally had to peel it off of her damp skin. The white t-shirt she had been given was too big, so she rolled the sleeves to her shoulders and tied the bottom up, exposing her midriff. V sighed as some of the heat escaped her body.

They had all received relatively the same outfit, and Evan was busy removing his jacket as well.

"What do you think this is about?" Evan asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

V just shook her head. "Who knows?"

They approached the Old State House and V opened the door. There was a winding staircase in the run down building immediately in front of the double entryway doors. Guards stood around the circular perimeter of the foyer where broken display cases and torn American flags lined the dirty walls. Guards stood in four positions around the foyer, guns held close and they perked when the doors opened, their weapons immediately coming up to greet Evan and V at the entrance.

"Best back the fuck up, you two," a guard warned, his weathered face set in a deep scowl. "You ain't got no business here. Besides, the boss is busy right now."

At that moment, a series of gunshots went off upstairs, followed by consecutive thuds.

"Is that Hancock's next appointment?" came a gravelly voice from up the winding stairs.

"Nah," the guard yelled back up. "Just some white haired bitch and her boyfriend."

A few heavy and fast footsteps were heard and suddenly Hamm was leaning over the second floor railing. "That's them you fucking idiot!" he called. "Send them up!"

The guard scowled and lowered his gun, motioning for the others to do the same. He stepped aside from the staircase entrance to allow Evan and V to pass, mumbling quiet obscenities under his breath. Evan went first with a huge smug smile on his lips, and V followed close behind, turning to the guards momentarily to flip them off with both hands.

Hancock was waiting at a large double doorway when they got to the second floor. He was leaning casually with his arms crossed and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. His red jacket had been discarded in the intense summer heat and his frilled shirt was halfway unbuttoned, revealing a chest thick with scarred radiation burns. His hat had been discarded as well, and his head and face had a slight sheen due to the heat. V had no idea ghouls could sweat, too.

"Only the two of you, huh?" he asked as they approached. V noticed his quick glance down to her stomach and she frowned.

"The others are waiting for their friend to wake up," she replied.

"Gotcha," he said. Then, he turned on his heels and walked into the large room. "Well, come in and make yourselves at home! I've got chems, food, drinks, whatever you need."

V and Evan entered the room and were assaulted by the smell of gun residue and blood. Evan looked to his right and nudged V hard in the ribs. She hissed, but followed his gaze to the floor where four bodies lay sprawled out, a perfect headshot in each forehead. A guard was already getting to work cleaning up the scene as another started dragging the first body by its feet. V and Evan couldn't help but notice the bloody smear it left on the floor following the body's path.

For the time being, V chose to ignore the scene as best she could and silently urged Evan to do the same. It wasn't their business to interfere with the mayor's goings on, and she wasn't about to stir the pot and ask questions that probably were better left unanswered. The pair sat down gingerly on an old worn couch that sank nearly to the floor under their combined weight. They sat silently, V eyeing the wide array of drugs and alcohol on the coffee table in front of them. She watched as Hancock plopped down on the sofa across from them and popped a Mentat into his mouth.

"Little early, don't you think?" V asked. She was never one to judge, especially with her excessive drug use; but he was a man with a position in the town, and the day had barely begun.

The ghoul just smirked. "Time doesn't exist in my house. Neither does judgement towards the mayor from a couple of newbies, so keep it to yourself, sister."

She nodded. "No problem, sir."

' _Sir? Ooh, I like this one…'_

Evan cleared his throat. "Mayor Hancock, did you ask us here for any particular reason?"

That made Hancock's grin widen. "A down to business kid, huh? I like your style." He sat forward on the couch , rubbing his hands together. "Look, kid, your merc here told me about the unfortunate situation in New Greenwich and I feel for ya, I really do. Losing everything and having to restart with nothing is a near impossible feat out here. So," he took a final drag of his cigarette and scrunched it out on the old coffee table, adding to the many pockmarks that already existed in the wood. "I'm prepared to offer a deal you'll find hard to walk away from."

"We're listening," V replied, her nerves suddenly on edge. She had to admit this ghoul seemed different from the one who was shooting the shit with her only the night before. It was making her uneasy. She knew her fair share of men in her days that knew how to manipulate and play their game to get what they want, and she was worried she had fallen for it in her vulnerable state. No one ever offered a deal without wanting something in return; and anyone who had a deal they'd 'find hard to walk away from' usually had a big problem that needed a violent solution.

Hancock pulled another cigarette from a pack lying on the coffee table and lit it. After a drag, he spoke, "I have a house – a nice house – here in Goodneighbor that I was saving for myself a long time ago. It's a bit run down, but it has a lot of space and its two blocks from the clinic in the 'quieter' part of town. It's got four bedrooms, kitchen, bathrooms, living room, all that shit that you'd need." He leaned back casually and grinned. "I'm willing to _give_ you the house, in exchange for a little job I have lined up."

V frowned. "What kind of job?"

"A little recon work, as an old soldier friend of mine would put it. Well," he snickered. "Recon with a dash of killing."

Evan shifted in his seat and V picked up on his signal.

"And who are we going in to kill?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Shit sister, you get real serious, real fast."

"This is a serious thing that you're asking of us," she replied, narrowing her gaze.

Hancock shrugged. "I guess maybe for your employers; but a merc like you? Well, this should just be another day at the office."

V caught the way the ghoul's eyes seemed to twinkle and it made her avert her gaze. She needed to sell her story to him and anyone else curious enough to ask. If she was going to talk about being a merc for hire, she'd have to start acting more like a merc for hire. Her friends, however, were not a part of that lie, and she didn't want to put them in anymore danger now that they had reached some semblance of civilization. She'd have to step up her game if she was to keep her identity hidden.

So, she sat forward, cracked open a beer and took a long, disgusting drink. After a small belch, she said – in her most merc sounding tone, "I just won't have my employers involved since they pay me as well."

' _Oh, she's good,'_ Hancock thought, grinning to himself. He noticed her abrupt change in attitude instantly, but again, he kept it to himself. He didn't get a bad vibe from this woman or her companions, and he wasn't about to create one by calling them out. So, he played along.

"I'm sure your employers can decide whether or not they want to join in; but for my deal, I want more than just _you_ making the effort."

Evan placed his hand on V's leg and offered her a reassuring smile when she met his eyes. "It's okay, V; we can handle ourselves."

"Atta boy!" Hancock exclaimed as he took another puff of his cigarette. "Besides, this mission could be slightly… personal for you. It involves synths – a lot of synths – being enslaved for depraved purposes."

V's eyes grew as icy as the shade of blue that was in them. She slammed the beer bottle down on the table. "Where is this place?"

"Easy there, sister," Hancock soothed. He pulled out the report Hamm provided to him the night before and tossed it onto the table. "My scouts counted roughly two dozen synths caged like animals, two were fighting to the death, and they have a 'red light' district where at least ten were being prostituted. At the time, they counted about fifty hostiles, but I assume that number fluctuates a lot."

V began to rifle through the pages as Evan peered over her shoulder. She frowned. "Raiders? Gunners?"

"Most likely gunners; they seem more organized than raiders, and this fits their MO a bit more," Hancock mused. "Usually gunners are only out for territory and they usually only fight raiders for it, or anyone who's dumb enough to challenge them; but this? This is something I've never seen them do before. I want you all to go in when it's nice a quiet, usually around four in the morning, and I want you to bring their ringleader back for questioning. Take down the others, the Commonwealth already has enough trash roaming about as it is. Other than that, it's a pretty cut and dry case, sister. Easy as pie, if you can hold your own in a fight."

V nodded and put the small paper stack down. "I want a team of at least fifteen. I'll offer up two of us to join, but I want more of your own men."

Hancock grinned. "Ten of my men and two of yours, _plus you_ , and then we have a deal."

V hesitated. She turned to Evan. "Do you think the others will go for this? Remember what we were talking about earlier."

But Evan just laughed, much to V's surprise. "For a free house, a place to call home and after all the shit we've gone through so far? Let's just get this over with."

"Evan, think about this for a moment – "

V's words were interrupted as she stared in mild horror as Evan extended his hand without any further discussion. "Mayor Hancock, you've got a deal!"

But the ghoul hesitated. "Let's not shake on it quite yet, kid. I actually have another favor to ask."

Evan withdrew his hand skeptically and V glared. "What now?"

"Now, now, no need to go on the defensive, sister," Hancock leaned back and raised his hands. "This favor is actually a good, easy one. You saw those sorry excuses for meat sacks when you walked in, right?"

Hancock motioned to the spot by the entrance where V and Evan had seen the four very dead bodies. Now, only a faint stain of recently spilled blood remained. The two men who were scrubbing and removing the 'guests' were gone now and the only evidence of any altercation was the stained floor that would soon be forgotten. Evan felt a cold shiver run up his spine and he quickly looked away from the doorway.

"What about them?" he asked, trying to find his most in-control tone of voice.

"It seems we've got a group of radicals in the Commonwealth," Hancock explained, sitting back and smoking the remainder of his cigarette. "They're calling themselves 'The Revival'. They're a radical group that help synths escape less than ideal situations they find themselves in. They also punish humans for either treating synths poorly or for just being, you know, human. Their ways of gong about things is extreme and bloody and also extremely bloody; and now I guess they've got my number."

V crossed her arms. "And how would you get placed on that kind of list?"

He shrugged. "For believing in fair, I guess. I had an altercation with one of their members a few days ago, and now I guess they just really want my head on a pike."

Evan cleared his throat. "So, what does that have to do with these guys?"

"I was getting there," Hancock said, slightly annoyed at how quickly these two clearly wanted to get out of this meeting. He was giving them a great fucking deal at a low fucking price. The least they could do was let him get to his conclusions on his own. "The Revival has agents all over the Commonwealth, I've learned, and the musical talent we had at the Third Rail turned out to be some of those agents."

"How did you know?" V asked.

"We searched a caravan they shop at frequently and found a nice report on my daily schedule for the week. The trader gave them up easily when he found out it was either his life or theirs. A good trade, if I do say so myself."

V noticed Evan gulp and shift in his seat again and she understood his feeling. She was beginning to see a whole new side to this mayor of Goodneighbor, and it wasn't all lollipops, rainbows and free chems. This side of him reminded her of Alistair, and she immediately felt a chill run up her spine. This man didn't seem to have any problems putting down those he deemed dangerous or unfit for his town, and she was hands down the most dangerous person there. V made a note to keep herself in check while being here so as not to draw any attention to her or her friends.

She did her best to hide her chill and shrugged at Hancock. "So what? You want us to play in the bar?"

Hancock slapped his kneed and grinned. "Exactly! Consider is a sweet job where you get to sleep in late, work night shifts, get paid decent, and you get to run up a pretty high liquor tab paid by yours truly. At least it'll get you all settled in nicely until you can decide if you want jobs around here. We can always use extra hands around town."

Evan laughed, he just couldn't help himself. He knew his family would be happy to take that kind of low risk opportunity where they could finally be safe. He glanced at V and saw the concern on her face and was confused as to why she didn't jump at this opportunity. This would be the perfect cover up for them, and it was a job that wouldn't trigger her anger. He frowned at her when she refused to agree, so he stuck his arm out again and allowed the ghoul's calloused and scarred hand to shake his own; ignoring the glare that was coming from beside him.

"Can't possibly pass up this kind of opportunity! Deal!"

Hancock grinned. "Good choice, kid. This is going to work out beautifully, I'm sure." He leaned over to one side of the couch and rummaged for a moment before sitting back up. He held a cigarette in his hand and he smiled. "Your merc here was pretty taken with this herbal concoction. So, I think it's appropriate that we all indulge together" He lit the cig and took a long inhale, offering it up to Evan, who took is skeptically.

"What kind of 'herbal concoction'?"

V could only scoff. "You made a deal, Evan. You may as well smoke it and enjoy it. The _mayor_ is offering it to you, after all."

So he did. Evan treated the cigarette like an inhaler of Jet and sucked hard on the stick. He felt the smoke enter his lungs and sit as he held his breath, feeling the odd burning sensation in his chest. When he finally exhaled, his breath came out in a coughing fit, tearing up his eyes and leaving him gasping for air. He heard V laugh beside him and she plucked the cigarette from his fingers while he tried to catch his breath.

' _What the hell?'_ she thought as she looked at the white wrapper. The smell was so familiar to her, and she could almost mistake the herbs for authentic marijuana; but she knew that drug had come and gone with the times. So, she wrapped her lips around the cig and inhaled smoothly and deeply. She noticed the smallest twitch in the mayor's face from the corner of her eye and she exhaled, smoke billowing from her nose and mouth like a dragon's breath. Something about his gaze made her tense up, and she wasn't sure if he was aware of his eyes burning a hole right through her. She extended her hand and offered up the drug, watching him take it from her.

Hancock picked up on her tense posture and quickly looked away and took a sharp inhale, leaving the cig to dangle between scarred lips. He brought out a bottle of bourbon and kept his eyes on the dark liquid.

"Going to Combat Zone so early in the morning will give you the advantage," he said, pouring himself a drink. "My men will be ready by midnight. They'll meet you at the gate entrance with all the necessary weapons for themselves." He looked up quick and winked. "Try not to be late to your first job."

V and Evan took that statement as their cue to leave and they said a hasty goodbye before leaving. Hancock noticed the red in both their eyes and the grin that was plastered across Evan's face and he shook his head, laughing to himself. He waited until he heard the front door close and he motioned for Hamm to come sit with him.

"So what's the plan, boss?" Hamm asked.

Hancock stared after the now vacant hallway where his two newest employees had gone down the stairs. He finished the herbs and enjoyed the way his brain swam. After a quick pause, he said, "I want you to take five men with you and follow them. Be discreet and wait in a good vantage point where you can help them if you need to. If they don't get out alive, it'll be up to you to finish the job."

"And if she's alive but their leader isn't?"

Hancock took a moment to think about that possibility. If this woman was a professional mercenary, like she claimed to be, she would be professional enough to put personal stigmas and vendettas aside in order to fulfill her contract. He hoped, for her sake, that she followed through on their deal. He would hate to have to show her what happens when his orders aren't followed. His eyes fell on Hamm's right hand and he smirked.

"Then restrain her and whoever comes out with her. They'll be questioned about the mission and we will decide from there."

Hamm nodded. "Sure thing, boss."

Before Hamm got up to leave, Hancock passed a set of keys to him. "Here. Let them have access to their caravan to outfit themselves. They can have full access to their things as soon as they come back from Combat Zone."

Hamm smirked. "You're being awfully sweet to this woman, boss. You sure you aren't trying to get into _more_ than her good graces?"

That made Hancock laugh. "I'm the mayor, Hamm, and also a businessman. The Third Rail is mine, and we need to keep business going. We need music, and at least this way we have an idea on where they stand and who they are."

* * *

"Callie is going to kill you, you know."

Evan scoffed. "She meant no more fighting on the road. This is different. This is paid."

V shook her head. "I'm sure that's not what she meant. And now she's going to blame me and play it off like I _told_ you to say you, somehow."

"So is _that_ why you were giving me the stink eye back there?"

"Partially," V replied. She was busy taking her long hair off of her shoulders and back by wrapping it around and shoving pencils through it. "But also because you shouldn't be making these kinds of calls on your own."

"You were there!" Evan protested.

"But I hadn't given any indication that we would take the deal. I don't want you and your family involved, Evan," V replied. She was legitimately annoyed that Evan had agreed so willingly to Hancock's terms. She had wanted to negotiate so that only she had to make the effort, but now she had to supply not just one, but two extra guns. Evan seemed ready and willing, but he was young, inexperienced and still recovering from his fracture. Callie would flat out refuse, no matter what the reward was; Amber was still sleeping and Rob was god only knows where in his head with his grief. V felt her teeth grinding and she tried to relax.

Evan sighed in an exasperated tone that took V by surprise. He stopped in front of the synth and put his hands on her shoulders.

"You're always talking about _my_ family; Evan and _his_ family, Rob and _his_ family. V, you're a part of our family – you have been since day one. We've gone through so much together and to think of you like anything other than a sister is weird. I hope you'll finally get that through your thick skull."

V softened towards her friend and gave him a quick hug. "Callie still isn't going to like this."

"Meh. Once she sees the house, which I'm sure will be amazing, she'll come around."

That made V chuckle. "Yeah. We'll see."

* * *

"No. Absolutely not. Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!"

"Come on Callie, this is a sure fire thing!" Evan tried to coax his sister.

Called crossed her arms. "There's a chance you could _die,_ Evan; that makes it as not-sure-fire as you can get!" She turned her dark eyes on V. "And you! How could you agree to this?! How could you get him to decide for us?! Both he and Rob are in no shape for this! I mean, you've basically committed us to a suicide mission!" She laughed humorlessly. "No wonder the mayor offered up an entire house! _We won't be alive to use it!_ "

"Hey! I wanted to come back and discuss it!" V defended. "But eager beaver over here just shot his hands in the air and agreed to everything. But," she sighed. "As much as I don't want to admit it, Evan is right. This is our best shot at establishing ourselves. This deal is legitimately amazing and we'd be stupid _not_ to take it."

"Plus, we get to have a normal, settled life again. We get to make music after this, Callie. Come on," Evan urged his sister to see their side of the story. He held onto her hands and tried to paint her a picture of their future.

"Just imagine," he began, "we have an _entire house_ to ourselves to live, eat, sleep, hang, practice music _and_ a job lined up for us when we get back. So long as we do this one last job, we'll have everything we could ask for!"

Callie groaned and stomped her feet in defiance. "But _another_ fight…"

"That we have reinforcements for," Evan interjected. "And besides, my arm is feeling better and V is a walking war machine!"

Callie eyed Rob skeptically. "I don't think Rob is ready, Evan. I'm not sure he can."

"I'll go."

All eyes turned to the somber man in dreadlocks. Rob slowly stood and nodded. 'If it means I can get Amber a decent place to live when she wakes up, then I'm there. How soon do we leave?"

"You meet at the gate at midnight. Not a minute later."

The group was caught off guard by the gravelly voice in the doorway behind them. They turned to see a well-dressed ghoul in a pin-striped suit, shiny black shoes and fedora. V and Evan recognized him right away as Hancock's right hand man.

"Oh! The mayor's assistant is here!" V mused, smirking. "What was the name again? Veal… T-Bone? No, wait, Salisbury Steak!"

"Hamm," he snapped. "Boss wanted me to bring the key to your caravan. It's locked up near the gate entrance. I gotta escort you there and let you take what you'll need for the trip."

V glared. "Why can't we have our caravan and brahmin now? Why do you need to supervise us?"

"He don't want anyone getting any ideas about skipping town before the job is done."

"So he doesn't trust us?" Callie asked, her anger rising in her words. "But he wants us to risk our lives for him?"

"Not yours, darlin'," Hamm answered. "Just hers and those two." He pointed at V, Rob and Evan.

Called placed her hands on her hips and scoffed. "What makes you think it's not me who's going?"

Hamm smirked. "Call it an educated guess."

Callie's face turned a bright red and she shook with her anger. Rob placed his large hands on her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Let it go," he said.

Hamm grunted. "You three come with me. I ain't got all day."

* * *

Hancock was leaning next to the large top floor window of the Old State House. He was enjoying the buzz the crushed Mentats and bourbon were giving him as he smoked a cigarette and watched out the window. He had a good view of where their lock up was at the front gate and he watched as V and her friends rummaged for whatever they were looking for. Once they had finished, Hamm watched them leave and then relocked the door.

Hancock wondered if he was making the right decision, trusting a group of strangers to do his dirty work. It _was_ technically him that the Revival was after, and to not go and deal with the problem personally could have its own ramifications. However, he had seen what happens to his town when he wasn't present and he didn't much care for how things had played out while he was checked out. It would do neither him, nor Goodneighbor any good if he was six feet under or rotting away in the summer sun. And with the people's faith in him reasonably shaken, sending in strangers to do the job seemed the most logical choice.

Wasn't it?

He heard Hamm enter and come to stand beside him. "Done," he declared as he watched the streets below with his boss. "They'll be ready for midnight."

Hancock nodded, puffing his cigarette. "What do you think about them?"

"Don't trust them," was all Hamm said and his boss grinned.

"You don't trust anyone, so I'm not surprised." Hancock replied, stepping away from the window. "We'll know more after tonight. Hopefully they'll be useful and hopefully they'll stay on our side."

Hamm agreed. "I better get my men ready for tonight. Should be a fun show."

"Wish I could be there to see it," Hancock mumbled as Hamm left the room, leaving the ghoul to sit in drugged silence.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Nora wasn't surprised by the amount of debris and destruction surrounding her and the others. New York had been the center of commerce, tourism and trade back before the bombs, and it was once one of the most densely populated cities in America. She remembered taking a trip with her late husband, Nate, before they had gotten engaged and being overwhelmed by the countless skyscrapers, the endless traffic and the crowds. It had been beautiful in its own clustered and hectic way, so the amount of rubble piled upon itself on the ground was not surprising.

What she wasn't prepared for was the vast amount of skeletons that littered the rubble and pieces of exposed ground. Through the immense piles of fallen concrete and steel, bones from those long dead poked out from almost everywhere. It shouldn't have been as surprising as it was; she knew the population of New York City before the bombs, she knew how densely packed the buildings were, and those nukes had dropped midday without any warning. Still, to see the evidence up close with her own eyes was unsettling to say the least. Now, the once bustling city that never slept was a mass grave full of men, women and children who were only going about their usual day.

Nick whistled beside her, gazing over the ruined landscape in the early morning sun. The terrain was rocky, uneven, and incredibly unstable due to the hundreds of collapsed high rise buildings, and finding their footing was proving to be a challenge. The Institute had been able to take them as far as the outskirts of the Glowing Sea and after that, they made a daylong trek to get to the heart of New York City.

A few feet behind them, Q1-33 was standing atop a large pile of concrete, surveying the path ahead. New York was deemed a complete 'dead zone' by the government due to nuclear fallout and the level of destruction due to non-nuclear missile hits. Because of the location, there hadn't been many altercations along the way, and the few bands of raiders or anyone out to do them harm had been disposed of easily by Q1 before it became an issue.

"I gotta say, I'm surprised there weren't as many hostiles as we had planned for," Nick said, scanning the ruined city before them. "You think there's a chance the world is getting better?"

Nora was busy on her Pip Boy, but she listened as Nick spoke. Without looking up from her screen, she said, "Wrongdoing and the evils of human nature never go away Nick. They're just always migrating and changing form."

He nodded sadly, rubbing at the mended flap of skin on his face. "I guess that's one way of putting it. So, how much longer we got until we get to this Vault?"

That made Nora look up at her friend and grin. "Depends how long it will take to tear away at the rubble."

Nick looked around. "Can you be more specific? There's debris everywhere."

"The stuff right below our feet."

Before Nick could reply, Q1-33 was pushing him to the side brusquely and dropping the larger of the two duffel bags they had packed down by their feet. She opened it to reveal a large pile of mines and a few grenades.

"There are seventeen key weak points in the stone," Q1 explained. Her black hair was cut short to her scalp with longer bangs, and she pushed them out of her eyes as she spoke. "We set these charges around the weak lines and keep them within the blast radius of each other. One good grenade toss will set them all off and hopefully clear enough away to allow us access into the Vault entrance below."

Nick looked unconvinced. "And how do we make sure we don't block the entrance permanently? Blasting through these ruins is risky and incredibly dangerous, Nora. Isn't there another way in?"

Nora shook her head as she rummaged through the duffel bag. "Not unless you want to bring out an entire excavation team with little experience in clearing debris to this magnitude. This is our only chance. Here is where the exact Vault entrance is and the debris here is at its weakest."

Nick frowned. "And just who go the layout of the Vault and the city to help you put this plan together?"

"I did," Q1 stated, stepping forward and nearly standing toe to toe with the old synth. "Do you have a problem with the way I helped to plan this mission?"

"I'm just unsure of the level of safety with this approach."

Her brown eyes narrowed. "It's the _only_ approach."

"Okay you two, stand down," Nora chided, hands on her hips. "Nick, I sent Q1 here with a team as we left for Goodneighbor and Cabot's. If she says this is the only way, then it's the only way."

Q1 smirked, her eyes never leaving Nick's. "Thank you, Director," she said.

Nick nodded, conceding the argument, and stood by Nora while Q1 placed the charges. She instructed them to take cover behind and half-crumbled brick wall and wait. Once Q1 joined them, it didn't take long for a grenade to be thrown and a subsequent BOOM! to be heard and felt. The ground shook below them as multiple mines exploded and Nora had a sudden fear that the ground below their feet would give way. The shaking grew stronger and Q1 covered Nora's head while shrapnel and debris landed around them, the air getting hotter from the explosions. The ground never gave way, of course, and after a few more seconds of ear shattering noises, the dust began to settle and the echoing stopped. Q1 released her protective grip on Nora's body and all three slowly stood up.

In front of them, about fifty meters ahead where a giant pile of concrete and rebar once lay, there was now a smoking crater. Nora was surprised at how effective the charge had been and she smiled at Q1. They slowly made their way towards the crater, careful of stepping anywhere that might give way under their weight. The majority of the fallen concrete had been blown away or crumbled small enough that it was easy to move. Nick and Q1 made quick work of what was left over blocking their path as Nora readied her weapon and brought out a thick rope from the duffel bag. They would need it in order to get into the Vault, and she ensure the rope was long enough to act as a guide if they had time to explore the inside.

"We've got access to the sewer," Q1 said after a few moments.

Nora nodded. "This sewer gives us access to the Vault's emergency exit through what we assume will be the Overseer's office," she explained to Nick. "I'll go down first and you and Q1 will follow."

"Absolutely not," Nick said, "I'll go first, Nora. We don't know what could be down there."

But she had already fastened the rope around her waist. "I've got this, Nick," she said calmly. "You can't protect me forever, you know."

Nick wanted to protest further, but he knew Nora. And when that woman made up her mind that was it. He sighed and made his way over to Nora, taking her by the hand as she traipsed down the rocky terrain down to the manhole cover on the street. Q1 was already down at the cover and was quickly removing it. Nick and the courser helped Nora onto the ladder and the Director made her way downwards into the dark. Nick waited only a moment before following.

It didn't take long before they were standing on top of a metal casing. Their footsteps clunked and echoed as they carefully stepped around in order to find the emergency exit hatch. It took only a few fumbling steps to find the domed hatch with the release valve, and Nick bent down and scanned the hatch.

"There's a keypad here. The lock is on a release. Looks simple enough," he explained as his fingers went to work, running his hacking program. Within seconds, the code was discovered and the door hissed as the locks released. Nick turned the large valve wheel and soon the metal hatch was creaking open.

The smell that came from the Vault was inexplicable.

"Oh my god! What is that?!" Nora exclaimed. She held her nose and tried to cover her mouth with her shirt; but the odor was intense. Nora found herself bent over and expelling her lunch only seconds after.

Q1 came to her side, holding her hand as Nora tried to steady herself.

"Director, are you okay?" she asked, her dark eyes showing concern.

After Nora got a hold of her retching, she nodded and allowed Q1 to help her to her feet. Nick came to them with a bottle of water and handed it to his friend.

"Look, I know you want to go in first, Nora; but let me while you get yourself together," he offered.

It took Nora a few moments to overcome her own stubbornness. This was her mission, after all, and she was the Director. It was her who should be entering into the dangerous situations first and keeping her friends safe. However, another bout of nausea quickly overcame her initial judgement to press ahead and she doubled over again, nodding feebly between episodes to let Nick know it was all good to go ahead of her. Q1 nodded to Nick as well as she held the water bottle and stroked the Director's back.

"I will stay with the Director until she is ready to move," Q1 instructed and Nick nodded.

"You do that," he said nonchalantly. Then, he bent over at the waist, hands in his pockets and a huge grin on his torn synthetic face. "Look like I get my way today, huh kid?"

Nora glared while she heaved, but said nothing as Nick turned and walked to the Vault's opening, waving behind him as he did so.

Nick felt bad for Nora. She was a fierce woman who was never afraid to crack skulls and spill blood; but get a nasty smell around her and she was nearly immobile with nausea. He was a lucky synth model who could turn off his smell receptors as easily as flicking on a light switch. So, as he descended the ladder into the Vault, he did just that and made his way to the bottom. Once his feet hit the floor, he lit the lantern he had been given earlier and took in his surroundings.

Nick hadn't been inside too many Vaults. He remembered Nora taking him to clear out Vault 75 and Vault 114 a long time ago, and from what he remembered of those travels, he guess Vault-Tec never really had a need for variety. He had acquired Vault-Tec files and after sorting through the many bites of data, he came to the conclusion that no matter what Vault you entered, the Overseer's office was relatively the same. The rooms would be laid out to hold one bedroom, an attached washroom and a large office, overlooking the Vault. The one Nick was standing in, however, was not a basic Vault-Tec design.

Where he was standing, a worn green carpet should be laying over a steel floor. There should have been a warm paint color on the wall and a worn but comfortable sofa to his left. What he found instead, was a bare and cold metal floor and an old desk in the middle of a large, barren room. There were rows upon rows of file cabinets in the far corner and an armory lockup on the other side. Nick took cautious steps forward, holding out a flashlight to try and illuminate the red-toned dark room through the emergency lighting. A computer was on the desk, rusted and forgotten; but still usable. Nick sat on a chair too frail to support his heavy weight for long and got to work.

Nor stumbled slightly on the last ladder wrung and fell to the floor in a clumsy heap. Q1 was quick to land next to her and help her to her feet.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" the synth asked.

Nora laughed. "Yes, I'm fine Q1. Just a bit embarrassed over this old body."

Q1 nodded. "I'm glad you're not hurt, Director. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to scout out ahead while Nick and I investigate the Overseer's office. Clear out any hostiles you might encounter and report back once you feel the Vault is clear. If you have to retreat, warn us through the radio and we'll be ready to back you up for a quick escape."

"Yes ma'am," Q1 affirmed. "I will report any strange findings to you."

With that, Q1 left, disappearing into the dark corridor of the Vault.

"Shit," Nora mumbled. She removed her radio from her belt and clicked it on. "And try to find the fusion core, Q1. We don't want those falling into the wrong hands."

"Affirmative, Director."

A second later, the main power was brought back up and the red emergency lights shut off. Nora squinted under the bright overhead lamps of the office and groaned.

"Dammit, Nick. A little warning next time?"

"Sorry kid," Nick said. "Happened faster than I expected."

' _That's what she said,'_ Nora thought and snickered to herself. It was always a joke Hancock would crack whenever the phrasing was right. "It's all good Nick," she said instead. "Take a look through the on there and… I'll…"

Nora trailed off mid-sentence as her eyes adjusted and she finally got a good look at the room around her. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open when her mind began comparing the similarities. A cold sweat broke out on her skin and she felt her mouth go dry. Nick was talking in the background, but to Nora, it only sounded like a distant buzz as memories of the past crept up. She took a few trembling steps forward and found herself in the doorway of the Overseer's room.

Except it wasn't a traditional Overseer's room. The room she stood in was built for efficiency and tactical reasoning. The room she looked into now had most likely belonged to a head of a science department or military official. She knew that because it was _exactly_ like her Vault's Overseer's office and quarters had looked.

"Nora? Nora, are you okay?"

Nick's voice came in louder, but still distant to Nora's ears. She could feel her heart pounding, the blood pulsing loudly in her ears. Her body felt like it was floating, and she drifted her gaze downwards to make sure her feet were still touching the ground. She heard a voice, her own voice, in the back of her head. She was panicking and calling out for Nate, her late husband, and her son Shaun, who was taken from her as a baby. She felt the coolness of the cryo chamber she had been imprisoned inside for over two hundred years, felt the frost on her lips as if she had just been released from captivity. Nora trembled and she heard a sob escape her lips as a hand came down on her shoulder. Nora turned – or floated, if you were to ask her personally – towards the body attached to that hand and stared into the amber eyes of her synthetic friend, her face pale.

"What's wrong, kid?" Nick asked, eyeing Nora with concern. "Tell me."

"This is Vault 111," Nora whispered, her fear paralyzing her.

Nick frowned and gently led her to the old, rusted bed and sat her down. He picked up an old glass cup from the bedside table and wiped the dust off and out as best he could with his coat before filling it with water from the bathroom sink. The old taps groaned and shook from years of slumber before coming to life and Nick hoped the filtration system was still operational. He brought the water back to Nora and helped guide her shaky hands back to her mouth with the cup, steadying her.

After a few sips, Nora's tremors subsided and she sighed.

"What was that all about?" Nick asked, taking the cup from her and setting back on the bedside table.

"This is how Vault 111 was laid out. This is _exactly_ how _my Vault_ was laid out. At least… the Overseer's office is." She forced a feeble laugh from her lips. "It could just be a big coincidence and it caught me off guard, is all."

Nick nodded, taking one of her fleshy hands in his mechanical one and stroking it softly. "Maybe the experimental Vaults – the extreme experimental ones – have the same layouts? I'm sure it's just a coincidence, Nora. Try not to let it bother you too much."

She smiled. "Did you find anything on that old computer?"

"Yeah, but I'd only just started looking. Nora, there's an insane amount of data on there – lots of personal logs and research data and project notes. It'll take a few minutes just to _get it all_ off of that machine and into my head. I'll try and skim a few as they are downloading, but the information might come in only bits and pieces."

Nora squeezed Nick's hand. "Thank you Nick. I'll go on ahead and look for Q1 and check up on her and how she's faring."

Nick frowned. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? The Vault here could be an exact replica, and I don't want you to have a panic attack in the middle of nowhere."

"I'll be fine," Nora laughed. "I just need a moment or two to catch my breath. I want to look around this room anyways, so you can be close for the next little while."

Nick accepted that and left her for the computer. Nora sighed when he left and silently chastised herself for being so foolish. She usually didn't let memories like that get the best of her; but something about this Vault felt… strange. Coupled with the sheer familiarity of the room she was in was quite a shock to her system. She shivered and then leaned over to the bed side table, opening the drawer. Nora rifled through some random papers and old, faded magazines. She walked over to the dresser and opened the drawers and was surprised to see them empty.

' _Must have been scavenged already…'_ she thought.

However, as she closed the bottom drawer harder, she thought she heard a rattle. She pulled the drawer out again and knocked on the bottom insert and heard a hollow noise.

"This drawer has a fake bottom," she murmured to herself. After a good hit or two, the wooden plank came free and Nora loosened it and set it aside.

Inside was a holotape and a golden heart locket. Nora took both and inserted the tape into her Pip-Boy.

"Hello, Molly."

"Nora! You better get in here!"

Nora stopped the tape and groaned. She stood up and crossed to the doorway. "Nick, I think I found something. A holotape left behind for a girl named – "

Nora's words were cut off short as she saw Nick standing next to Q1 with a gun pointed at his head. Her anger flared and her adrenaline pumped. Nora seethed, "What are you doing, Q1?"

"Completing my mission, Director," Q1 cocked the gun and pressed it firmly against Nick's head.

Nora growled. "Your mission is to accompany and assist, Q1. Let Nick go. Now."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Director."

"And why the hell not?"

Q1 glared. "Did you really think that making all synthetics aware of their will was a good idea, Director? Because I've seen synths that have gone rogue and then killed themselves because they can't handle what's been done to their minds. Many synths _were_ happy and _had meaning_ before you went ahead and gave them the ability to choose what they wanted out of life. Many haven't adapted well to that mentality, Director, and those ones will turn to _anyone_ for guided purpose!

"Synthetics have a much higher probability to lead to – or fall into – a life of crime and depravity due to _needing a purpose_." She laughed a cold laugh that made Nora's blood boil. "Your own synthetic _son_ shut down because he couldn't handle the complete free will that was given to him."

"Don't you dare talk about my son!" Nora barked. She reached instinctively for her handgun, but Q1 let a shot ring out past her head and barrel into the wooden armoire behind her.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk; don't move, Director," Q1 warned. "Or I'll blow his synthetic brains all over the room. Now," she sneered, "Give me your override password for this rust bucket's core memory drive, and I'll leave you here to try and find your way back to the Institute. If you don't die of hunger and dehydration first, that is."

"What do you need his memory for?!" Nora demanded, her anger overwhelming.

"The Institute knows that something important is in this Vault, Director. You're son had all the files and all the information at his fingertips but refrained from acting on it. He had grown soft since you barged in and he began to question the morality of the research here. It is believed by the Board that the research here contains the keys to making coursers more powerful than you can imagine, and grant the human race immortality."

"So there _is_ a group working to overthrow the progress I've made inside the Institute." Nora smirked. "And you're working alongside them. Good to know."

Q1 pressed the gun against Nick's head again. "Give me the password, or he dies and I take his memory core by force. The Board won't stand for decryption, but if it's the last resort…"

Nora glared. "I'm not giving you shit."

The synth scoffed. "Guess I've wasted enough time, then."

She pulled the trigger. Another shot rang out.

"NORA!"

Nora rushed forward, time slowing down as if she had just taken a hit of Jet. The two synths before her stood perfectly still, both eyes wide in surprise. Q1 then dropped to the ground with Nick, smothering the detective as she began to search for his memory core.

"Nick!" His name came out of Nora's mouth like a long, drawn out cry. Her feet couldn't get to Q1 fast enough, and when she finally made it to them, she dropped to her knees and began beating on the female synth, tears burning in her eyes.

"You can't have his memory!" Nora shouted. "Let it go! Fuck you, Q1, LET IT GO!"

"Nora! Is that you?! What's going on down there?!"

Nora heard her name, and she took a second to calm herself. Q1 wasn't fighting back and she swore she could hear muffling beneath her body. On the floor, Nora finally noticed the stripped mechanical hand that was waving about. She gasped. "Nick!"

"Nick? Hey Nora! That you down there?!"

"We're down here! Watch your step!" she answered back.

Nick groaned from the immense weight of Q1 as Nora helped him hoist her off. Her lifeless body rolled to the side and Nick was able to get up and dust himself off. He gave Nora a questioning look. "Who's that?"

To answer, a large figure dropped down from the ceiling and landed three feet away, the ground shaking with its impact. Dust rose around the giant, iron-clad powerhouse that stood behind them and Nora smiled when the giant's helmet was removed, revealing the face she remembered well.

Nick was surprised. "Danse?"

The six foot seven tank nodded and offered a small smile. "Nick. It's good to see you again." He brought a large, armored hand to his face and scratched at the short bead growing there. "Still wearing the same old trench coat, I see."

The synth chuckled and extended his good hand. "I see your fashion sense hasn't changed much, either."

Nora placed her hands on her hips. "Danse, what are you doing here?"

"We had gotten a report about a Vault containing dangerous technology regarding synthetics. I was sent out for a simple scouting mission and heard you near the New York City limits. After I realized who you were, I followed you, waiting close by to see if you needed any help."

Nora frowned. "That's stalker-talk, Danse."

The man's chiseled face turned a slight shade of pink. "I wasn't sure you'd accept any help from me, given the way we left things the last time we were together."

Nick stared at both humans and frowned. "What happened last – "

"It's not important," Nora interrupted harshly. She felt a harsh pang of regret when she saw Danse's face flicker with a small detail of pain. She cleared her throat. "You're report probably came from someone in the Institute. There's kind of a… mutiny forming, as I've just learned."

Danse frowned, his expression serious and intense as he stepped closer to Nora. "What's happening? Are you safe?"

She scoffed. "Since when have I _ever_ been safe, Danse?"

He nodded thoughtfully. She had a point. "So, what's happening?" he asked again.

Nora sighed, pushing a lock of stray white hair from her eyes. "I'm learning that some people – both synthetic and non-synthetic – are unhappy with some of the more… _drastic_ changes I've made. I guess some synthetics are taking the transition to full free will harder than others."

Danse thought about that for a moment, and nodded again. "I can see that."

"I beg your pardon?"

The soldier heard the sharpness in her comment and he smiled weakly. "A… lot of our new recruits in our chapter are synthetics – much to the other elders' mortified surprise. They say they want a purpose to serve and are some of our best and brightest soldiers. I… well, I guess I never really considered that to be a downside," he added sheepishly.

Nora groaned and rolled her eyes. "The only other option for this to work was to kill off the older models! What was I supposed to do?!"

"I'm not saying that to judge you," Danse raised his hands in defense. "It was a tough choice to make, Nora, and you made the best one you could. I'm not envious of your position, here; but you had to know that no matter what choice you made, there would be extreme opposition."

Nora ran her hands over her pulled back hair and shook her head. She knew Danse was right; too many opposing views on synth freedom would have cause controversy no matter which way she chose to go. But opposition from other _synths_? Even she couldn't have seen that coming.

"Nora," Nick approached her. "I have all of the files downloaded. I've skimmed a few, and it appears Crowley was keeping his subjects alive with Cabot's serum. There are entries about one subject in particular – a girl he seemed obsessed with."

"Let me guess, Molly?"

"How did you – "

"A holotape was in his room," Nora explained. "I only got as far as the greeting."

"Do you want to go further into the Vault?" Nick asked. "Might be more information to find deeper in."

She sighed and put her hands in her coat pockets. "I want to continue, but I think it's best we get back to the Institute before the entire place has decided I'm the devil."

Danse stepped forward. "I can have the Prydwen take you back to the Commonwealth in a matter of hours," he said, his chest jutting out slightly in that masculine pride that Nora remembered. It was still as adorable now as it had been back then.

She snickered. "Yeah, because what would look better than the Institute Director disembarking from the Brotherhood of freaking Steel's mothership?" She smiled and took the newest Elder's hand, squeezing it gently. "Thanks, Danse, but we have to go back the long way."

Even though Nora's hand was touching the Power Armor that encased the man, and not his skin, Danse could swear he felt her warmth. It made his heart flutter as old memories and feelings came flooding back. Looking at Nora now, she had hardly changed in the near decade of time since their last meeting. Her eyes were still sharp and shone with a brilliant green; her hair, though now completely white and silver, was still thick and healthy; and her skin still held on to its healthy glow, even though the surface had thinned. He felt his own skin flush and he grinned.

"Then I will accompany you," he said, determination in his voice.

Nora laughed. She tried not to, she really did; but the pure-heartedness of the towering, muscle-bound Boy Scout was just too much to handle. Even now, after all they had been through and their history, he still had to be the white knight. In no way was Nora a damsel in distress; but being around Danse made her feel important and as special as one. So, she shook her head with a little playful smirk on her lips.

"Really, Danse, it isn't necessary."

But he insisted. "If my friend is in trouble, it becomes necessary to me. If this has to do with our tip off, it becomes Brotherhood business, as well. That makes it my business by association. At the very least, the Prydwen can take us to the Commonwealth limits. From there, we can go on foot to the Institute."

Nora thought for a moment, then turned to Nick. "Your thoughts?"

Nick was busy smoking a cigarette off to the side, pacing back and forth while the two of them were flirting. "Wouldn't hurt to have the added security," he suggested. "Plus, having the Brotherhood's resources and weaponry might come in handy when facing off against that synth."

Danse frowned. "What synth?"

"Ugh, help us out of here, and I'll tell you all about it," Nora said, rolling her eyes and suddenly feeling as if she were twenty years older.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

"This is never going to fucking work."

V turned to one of Hancock's Neighborhood Watch guards and glared. "You got a better idea? Cause I'd love to fucking hear it."

Rob huffed. "I thought you guys said this place would be quiet at this time?"

The group peered out over the wastes before them. Amongst the crumbled buildings, the rusted cars and the few rotting corpses put up on display, Combat Zone practically stood out like a beacon. The large building must have been a small stadium or center for something important at one time. There was a long entrance hall that indented the buildings wall, with large double doors at the end. They had done a perimeter check earlier and spotted two more exits out the sides of the building and an exit out the back. There was music blaring and loud voices could be heard inside – a lot of loud voices.

V sighed. "I guess this is the building that never sleeps," she said, using a pair of old binoculars to focus on the building's side doors. She and eight of her team gathered near her, crouched behind an overpass divider one mile away. Her eyes scanned the men she had ordered to chain the doors and completely barricade them, ensuring they were proficient in their work.

Evan waited patiently; keeping point to the group's left while Rob watched from the right. V had explained the plan to lock the gunners inside while sending in a small force through the roof to surprise the enemy while rest came in from the front and back. Surrounding them in such a way, V had hoped the weakest would run for the barricaded doors and easily be picked off by the back group while the front group took on the main bulk.

The main group consisted of most of Hancock's men. Evan knew most would not survive the first three minutes of shooting.

Evan surveyed their group, however, and he had to admit he was not as worried as he probably should be. The men and few women that had been assigned were calm, collected, and a few even looked eager for a gunfight. These were seasoned soldiers who were excited by the thought of battle and Evan was just extremely happy they were fighting on the same side.

V had tasked him with leading the back assault. All 'back door entry' jokes aside, most turret controls were usually tucked away from the most used entry point. Evan guessed the computer for turret control would be near the back of the building; and next to V, he was the next best choice to hack into a terminal. He only hoped his guess was right, because the observation notes had counted roughly five turrets.

Time passed by in silence. There were light murmurs passed along a few of the guards, but mostly they sat and waited. After a time (dawn had now made itself present, and already the heat was rising), the team returned to V, confirming their completion of chaining the doors. V thanked them and she gathered everyone in a huddle.

"Okay, to recap," V began. "Team One, raise your hands."

Evan and two others raised their hands.

"Okay, Team One, you'll stay between teams two and three until team three goes upwards. Make your way to the back exit quickly and silently. Evan, it's up to you to lead these guys and have them guide you in safely. Wait at the door for our signal." V waited for Evan's team to confirm and then continued. "Team Three, raise your hands." V raised her hand and waited for Rob and two others to follow. "We will be scaling the building on two sides. After Team Two sets up at the first entrance, we'll continue with Team One – two from each team going around on opposite sides. Team Three, once you reach the side entrances, let Team One go on ahead and get to the top of Combat Zone as quickly as you can. Rob and I will lead this, so you two," she pointed to her teammates, "pick which of you goes with whom."

"Now, Team Two," V's face turned slightly somber. "I won't lie and I won't sugar coat it; your team will have the heaviest casualties. Your team will head in through the front entrance and you'll be faced with the heaviest amount of enemy fire. Now, Team Three is going to try and distract with our surprise drop, but there's only so much we can do. The synthetics are being held in the front entry room, so I want two from your team to stay behind to release them. Once that's complete, I want one person to stay with the synths, and the other to join the battle. Whoever stays with the synthetics, I want you to run to Goodneighbor if the fighting goes south. It'll be up to you to get the synths out of here."

She expected some resistance to her plan; some fear in their eyes and voices. This was a very risky mission given their number against the gunners, even more so with hostages involved. V didn't expect anyone put on a brave face just for her sake; yet here they were, jaws strong, brows furrowed and breath even. Even in the dim morning light, V could see their determination.

"V, it's time," Rob said, his voice grave.

V exhaled. "If you have a god, pray to him now…"

* * *

Hamm watched from a distance atop the Medical Centre building. He watched V and her troops from the crosshairs of his scope, the small figures unaware of his presence.

"When do we go it, boss?" one of his men asked.

Hamm frowned. "We don't. Hancock is testing loyalties. We only go if things go wrong." He continued staring into the scope, intrigued at the military formation unfolding below. Maybe Hancock was right and she did have army training of some sort. He had heard a synth had become an elected Elder in the Brotherhood of Steel and that a lot of free synths had joined' but he assumed leaving would be more difficult. Could she be from the Brotherhood? Hamm wondered as he continued his watch, waiting for the group below to come back out of Combat Zone. Preferably alive.

* * *

The wind was a bit stronger and colder at the top of the Combat Zone roof. V shivered, even under her leather jacket as she crouched on the rooftop setting their charges. There was no covert way to enter Combat Zone. V and Rob had come up with a plan to set explosives on the rooftop to blow an entry point into existence and rappel down from the top as fast as possible. There was a large possibility that neither of them would make it, nor their teammates; this plan left them wide open to a rain of bullets, but V hoped if they moved fast enough, and if gunfire came from both the front and the back of the building they might just make it.

Getting the leader alive, however, was going to be a big problem.

Despite all the training and combat programs V had uploaded into her brain, Alistair rarely took prisoners – he'd had no need. V was used to killing, not capturing, and she only hoped she'd be able to contain her anger long enough to subdue and capture their target.

Rob huffed. "Charges are set. A nice little circle to get us in and surprise the living fuck out of those assholes inside."

V nodded and began to secure her rappel, tying the knots securely around her waist and thighs. "The explosion should distract the front guards and draw them into the main room, so getting the synths out is the easy part."

Robb scoffed. "Yeah, it's just the impending blood bath afterwards that'll be the tough part."

"Not necessarily," V replied. "If our entrance can distract them long enough, Team One and Two should be able to spring a surprise attack on them. That's five extra guns shooting at turned backs. It could take out ten to twenty hostiles easily. Everyone just has to follow the formations."

As V and Rob and their two teammates crouch on the edge of the building's rooftop, V leaned over to see Evan in position with his group. V turned her blue eyes to Rob and winked.

"Freedom always comes with a price. Now, let's go."

She turned and quickly aimed a shot at the mind in the middle of their explosive circle. The blast was bright, loud and powerful, and all four huddled against the impending shrapnel and debris that came at them. V called for them to move as soon as the initial dust had settled and the four rappelled down into the building, into the flashes of gunfire below.

* * *

Eyes shifted to Evan as the explosion rocked the building, shaking loose dust and debris overhead. Evan's palms were sweaty, but his grip on his hand gun was firm. His hands would have to be steady in order to hack into the terminals properly and disable the enemy's turrets. Evan let go of a long breath he had been holding and nodded to the woman closest to the door.

"Let's get going," he said.

The door opened to a cloud of dust and the sounds of guns firing all around them. Evan and the others covered their mouths as best they could and went in low, closing the door behind them. He could hear the turrets letting off a multitude of rounds and heard the resulting cries of pain as bullets found their targets. Evan felt his heart pound and tried to breathe steady through his adrenaline. The dust inside was thick and difficult to see through, but he and his two teammates stayed close and hugged the wall as Evan searched for the terminal he needed.

"Go left and stay close," he said over the noise. Within another minute or so, Evan found a stash of electronic equipment and a generator. Eagerly he searched further into the dust cloud and smiled when his fingertips touched the familiar plastic of a keyboard. The screen lit up in front of him, fuzzy green lighting up the dense cloud of debris.

"Get to work, kid. We've got your back."

"I'm not a kid," Evan mumbled, but did what the woman said. In seconds, he had the turrets disabled and the searchlights turned off. From a short distance, Evan heard a shout of frustration and orders being barked. He listened to the chaos around him and frowned.

"We have to get out, now," the woman urged, pulling on Evan's arm towards her.

But he shook his head. "We have to help."

"That's not part of the plan – "

"Fuck the plan!" he scoffed. "Your people need help! My family needs help! We have to do something!"

Two shots came close to Evan's head, making him duck and cover. When he dared a peek upwards, he notices his two teammates were down on the floor, one with a hold in her head.

"You ain't going anywhere, little man," a low, gravelly voice stated. Evan tried to get up and run, but he was struck down by the butt of a rifle. He collapsed on the ground with a grunt and struggled against a large hand grabbing him by the collar of his jacket.

"Let me go mother fucker!" Evan yelled, but the grip on his collar – and now neck – tightened, cutting off his breathing.

"Now everyone, listen up!" boomed a voice loud enough to be heard over the commotion of gunfire. Evan cringed and struggled feebly as the large, rough hand squeezed. Stars exploded in his vision and his head began to throb and feel fuzzy. His eyes felt too large in their sockets and his vision blurred…

"Evan!"

"Drop him, asshole!"

Evan heard the voices, but everything seemed so far away and unimportant now. His lids began to droop and he felt himself being to slip away…

His body dropped to the ground unexpectedly with a loud _thump!_ and Evan gasped, desperate to get the burning hot air into his lungs. Through his coughing and sputtering, he heard the man above him chuckle.

"Well, well, well, I was told you had come to the Commonwealth; but I never thought for a _second_ that you'd stumble into _my_ little home."

Evan's eyes began to focus again and he dared to look up at his assailant. The man over him cast a huge shadow due to his bulky frame. He was all hard muscle, evident under his tight fitting black t-shirt and the veins that appeared on his massive neck. He wore metal armor molded and fitted to wrap around his muscular body and military pants and boots underneath. His jaw was strong; the kind of strong that could probably smash bricks and not even break the surface of his skin, and his mouth was set in a permanent grin, thanks to a joker smile on the right side of his face, the scar tissue long since healed. His eyes were hard and determined as he stared ahead, seemingly oblivious to Evan's stares.

V had locked gazes with him, her gun drawn and aimed at his head.

The two adversaries stared each other down, the air in the room intensifying around them. The gunners didn't move on the man's orders, and the Watch wouldn't move unless V ordered. Everyone stood in the midst of an old school Mexican standoff, and Evan's weapon was now on the other side of the platform he now lay on.

"Who are you?" V asked.

The man chuckled. "Oh, you won't know who I am; but I know you well enough, V."

V glared. "How do you know my name?"

Heavy footprints shook the platform Evan was on as the man crossed it, pulling aside a ratted curtain. "Why don't you come in and we can talk like civilized people? I'm sure you miss those conversations, don't you? You know, from before the war?"

Evan watched as all eyes turned to V and she shifted, uncomfortable by all the sudden attention. She tried to shake it off and frowned.

"I'm good right here, asshole."

Asshole laughed. "Look around, V; you're still outnumbered and outgunned. My men might suffer a few more casualties, but we'll put your men down easily." His face darkened and his eyes grew sinister. "This is not a negotiation. Now get your ass in here before I start letting these innocent people in on who you _really_ _are._ "

Evan saw Rob mumble something to V; but she either didn't hear him, or she was pretending not to hear him. After another moment, she lowered her guns and slowly started towards the asshole. He locked eyes with her and she gave him a wan little smile before entering the small, closed off room, with the asshole following behind.

Once the curtain closed, shots began to ring out again.

V turned sharply as soon as the shots rang out.

"You mother fucker - !"

She tried to draw her weapons again, but a large and heavy body was thrust upon her, pinning her down to the ground. Asshole had completely covered her smaller frame with his own large one and pinned her hands above her head with only one of his own; the other travelling down her side.

He laughed. "Crowley told me you feisty, but shit! You caught me off guard, girl!"

His hand stopped at her hip and he pulled her handguns from their holsters. Laughing as V continued to struggle; he threw her gun across the room. Rough hands then grabbed her by the waist and suddenly she was on her stomach, her face being smashed into the floor while her hands were now clasped behind her back. A greedy hand began grabbing its way down her back, hew two swords being pulled from their confines and tossed to the side of the room along with her combat knife The metal clanged and she cringed as the blades skittered across the floor; all the while, the gunfire kept erupting outside.

A rough hand squeezed her backside roughly and hot breath was in her ear. She cringed, her stomach doing flips.

"I am going to fucking kill you when I get out of this," V seethed as she was hoisted to her feet, Asshole busy tying her hands behind her back. A rough shove got her seated on a wooden chair and Asshole quickly bound her legs to the chair. Then, he pulled one up a chair of his own, sitting down heavily as the wood creaked beneath his weight. He ran a dirty hand through his dirty, shoulder length hair and sighed, staring at her.

"Ha! That's a metallic alloy combined with… some other tough shit your man supplied for me to keep you bound. You can't rip out of them unless you have my key." He dangled a single key in front of V's face and grinned. "So, you got any questions for me before I send for Crowley?" He perked an ear and listened as the gunfire began to slow and he grinned. "Won't be long now before my men loot your men's corpses and leave the rest of the dogs."

V's heart raced and her face turned read from the anger she felt. Her body was shaking as her emotions overflowed and she thought of over one thousand ways to kill this guy. She stared at him through stray locks of white that had escaped her bun, her eyes tiny slits of hatred. "How do you know Crowley?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Asshole inhaled sharply and whistled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "Now that's a loaded question. Your Mr. Crowley waltzed in here two weeks ago all cocky and demanding my completed devotion to him," he laughed. "Of course, I called him fucking crazy for making such demands… Until he killed off _twenty_ of my men without hesitation or trouble." Asshole's eyes grew hard and dark, and V could tell he was still sore from Crowley's actions. "I had no choice and I called my men off and we talked. Turns out he had something I was very, very interested in, and I had eyes on this end of the Commonwealth, which your man wanted. He told me a hot little number would be travelling through. Tall, curvy, strong, white hair and brilliant blue eyes with an ass you loved to watch walk away from you." Asshole's eyes skimmed over V hungrily and she shuddered. "I'm glad he wasn't exaggerating."

V grimaced. "What do you mean 'he took out twenty of your men'? How?"

Asshole laughed again, but it was bitter and angry. "With his bare. Fucking. Hands. This guy has power like I've never seen! He ripped some of my guys nearly in _half_ before I was able to calm the situation down. He's strong and fast and indestructible. He took bullets like they were nothing more than molerat nips to the ass. It was nothing I've ever seen before."

V's blood ran ice cold as he explained Crowley's actions. Her anger washed away as a deep, embedded fear rose up in her throat.

"Then, he offered me something I couldn't refuse," Asshole continued. "An upgrade so advanced that even the _Institute_ can't keep up with it. This tech is advanced."

"You're a synth?" V asked, her tone sharp.

Asshole sneered. "Made with love from the Institute."

Her anger came back suddenly; red-hot and ready to burst. V tried to lunge forward at Asshole, but the metal shackles kept her bound to the chair. She glared. "Then why do this to other synthetics?! Are you fucking sick in the head?! Those are your people – _our people!_ "

He rushed her and knocked her chair over with his weight, his face barely an inch from hers and he glared right back. "Not your people. No one else in this world is like you. Well," he nodded thoughtfully. "I guess Crowley is now. A perfect pair you two will make."

She spat again, this time right in Asshole's eyes. He grimaced and smacked the back of his hand across V's face. The strength from it sent her reeling, her face nearly numb from the impact. The pain settled in quickly afterwards and her eyes watered. The strength in that one backhand was enough to scramble her brain and make her vision fuzzy and V shook with pain and anger. No one had ever been able to hit her that hard before, no human was nearly strong enough and though she hadn't fought any synthetics yet; but she had heard they were mostly built to fit in, not stand out with super strength.

Asshole stood and paced the room. "You have to understand that only a few decades ago, synthetics were all regarded with fear. The Institute used to take humans from their homes and replace them with perfect copies and study how well they adjusted in the real world. No one ever found out what happened to their loved ones – the real ones. They were just gone. So, you can imagine the type of paranoia and fear that would instill into people out here, and they Institute became the boogeyman made to be wary of at all times.

"Synths in the Institute were used mostly as slaves or soldiers under the old Director. They erased my memory of the place before putting me out here, but I've heard enough horror stories to piece together what it was like. Synths were scared, people were scared, and all we could do was wait."

V listened intently to his words, trying to get as much information from him as possible while her wrists constantly flexed and pulled against their bindings.

"Then, a new Director came in," Asshole continued, oblivious to the woman writhing slightly on the floor. "She implemented a new program; one that would set every synth free," he scoffed and scratched the unscarred side of his face. "But not all synths can handle that kind of freedom. Some of us _need_ purpose and structure. We crave it. Some synths adapted, other shut themselves down, others flocked to anyone willing to give them a reason for existing. And me?" Slowly a grin grew on his face and he winked down at V. "I'm a business man. They wanted purpose, so I gave it to them. Most are happy to serve, no matter the conditions."

V glared. "Alistair gave you an upgrade, didn't he? There's no way you'd be this strong without it."

Asshole bellowed out laughter at this, throwing his head back. "Of course! The implant in my brain has made me faster, stronger, and for the first time in a long time, I feel alive." Asshole clenched his hands into fists, flexing them and staring wide-eyed at his digits, as if lost in a mystical power that surrounded them.

V sneered. "You're fucking disgusting."

He stopped his rambling and looked over at V, who was still lying on the ground. He kept his gaze locked on her as he slowly approached her, a hungry look taking over his eyes and licked his lips. V cringed as he knelt down to her level and ran a hand from her bound ankle to her thigh, lowering his lips to her neck and inhaling deeply.

"I can see why Crowley is so obsessed with you," he breathed as V struggled against his hand. "A tight body like yours is so hard to come by, nowadays." He eyed her leather jacket and ripped off the sleeves, tearing the ballistic lined garment and pulling it away from her, leaving her in her white, oversized tee. Asshole moved his hands from her thigh to her stomach, pulling the shirt up to her chin. "Pearly white skin like this doesn't happen anymore. Per-war bodies are something we all dream about having," his hand reached her bra and squeezed hard over the cup, making tears form in V's eyes. "Maybe Crowley can wait a while before getting you back…"

His rough hand gripped V's chin and he mashed his lips against hers, grunting as his other hand began to fumble with his belt buckle. V fought weakly against his lips, and then the intrusion of his tongue. She kept her gaze locked on his belt, waiting for him to get his pants at least partially down; the more vulnerable he would be the better.

' _Do what he says. Get what information you need. We'll take care of these assholes. You're got this….'_

Rob's words echoed in her mind as Asshole got his belt undone. V waited patiently, neither pulling away nor participating with his lips. He pulled away for a moment to undo the button on his pants, and he pushed them down, exposing himself. He grinned at V and planted his mouth back on hers, shoving his tongue back in.

V took her cue and clenched her teeth together, biting through the tongue in her mouth easily. The resulting scream was loud enough to make the walls in the makeshift shack vibrate. V pulled back as Asshole went stumbling to the ground, blood dripping down both of their chins, V spitting out the organ onto the floor in a small fleshy heap. She wasted no time and stumbled over to her discarded combat knife. She picked up the blade and slowly approached Asshole, the man still distracted by his missing appendage. He groaned and writhed on the floor as V stood over him, wiping the blood from her mouth.

"Crowley clearly didn't tell you everything about me," V snorted as she bent down over him. "Like the hell I had to endure for the last two and half centuries being part of his test farm. All the pain, the cryo-freezing, the tests, the… perversions I had to perform in order to survive." She grabbed a fist full of his hair and raised his head to be eye-level with her and she sneered. "So he either intentionally informed you poorly about my combat aptitude and strength, or he's forgotten just how resourceful I can be when pinned against a wall."

He tried to gurgle something of a response, but his words were inaudible through the blood, the pain, and a missing tongue.

"V! You okay in there?" Rob's voice came in loud and strong and V grinned.

"I'm fine," she called, and then she glared wickedly at Asshole as the realization of defeat spread over his face. V gave his head a shake and took enjoyment in his pain. "Your men are dead, asshole, and you're going to join them. Oh, and don't worry," her wicked grin stayed as she brought the blade to his throat. "Crowley will be joining you soon enough, so make a spot for him in hell."

With that, she drew the knife across his throat and watched as the life began to seep from his eyes as quickly as the blood from his neck. Asshole struggled and his eyes seemed confused; V surmised he wasn't a man that was used to losing, and now he had just lost it all. He coughed and sputtered a few times, blood hitting V's face, but she didn't brush it away. She was past the point of calm, collected thinking, and now she simply relished in the carnage before her, holding his head still even as his body became dead weight. After the blood flow subsided, V's anger began to ebb and she dropped the body. Slowly she stood and she collected her personal belongings without another look over at the corpse lying on the floor, and she stepped over it just as nonchalantly as stepping over a small rock in the Wasteland. She came out of the shack and met Rob and Evan right away.

Looking around, V noticed all weapons were initially trained on her until she nodded for them to stand down. Rob and Evan immediately rushed to her side, trying to search for any injuries.

"Guys, I'm fine," V mumbled, suddenly feeling tired. She looked beyond them and counted the remainder of their group. Of the ten men Hancock supplied, five still stood. Two were tending to minor wounds while another was bleeding heavily from his farm, sitting off on the side.

"Whoever has any medical training, please see to that man's shoulder. Report on the synthetic hostages?"

A woman stepped forward. "Ma'am, their cells are unlocked and we are ready to move on your command."

V sighed. "Good. Good work everyone. I'm sorry for those we lost, but we did a good thing today. Be proud of yourselves and keep the fallen in your thoughts and prayers. Let's tend to our wounded and pick this place clean before heading back."

The woman cringed. "Ma'am, what about our target?"

"Dead," V answered.

"But Mayor Hancock wanted him alive for questioning."

"I got all the answers we needed," V explained. "But it became a fight to the death. It was either him or me, and I'll be sure to let your mayor know that. I'll accept any and all consequences."

"Ma'am…" she hesitated, her words trailing off. The soldier's eyes skimmed the rest of the Neighborhood Watch and she turned back to V. "Was he a friend of yours? How did our target know who you are?"

"He didn't know me," V replied, frowning. "He knew… someone I used to work for. Someone who wasn't very nice, so I decided to leave my contract."

"Were you a gunner?" she asked.

V laughed. "Honestly, I had no idea what the gunners even were before I arrived in the Commonwealth and were attacked by a group of them." V paused and studied the woman asking the questions. She was petite with short cut brown hair and an intense stare. "I'm sorry I can't give you any more information than that Ms…?"

"Ryker," she stated. "Sarah Ryker, ma'am."

"Sarah Ryker," V rolled the name around in her mouth. "I promise you that I'm not playing both sides, here. I genuinely wanted to help, and so here we are. Now, I know me killing that asshole looks suspicious, but I promise you there was no ill intent here."

Ryker didn't look completely convinced, but she and her men were injured, and in no state to fight any longer. So, she accepted V's excuse and motioned towards her face. "Would you like to… clean up a bit, before we leave? I mean, you're face…"

V brought her fingers to her cheeks and she gently wiped at the blood, examining it closely. The blood was drying to a sticky paste and the red balled up on her fingertips. She smiled to herself as she recalled watching the Asshole die in front of her. A sudden chill ran up her spine and shook her from her trance and she shook her head.

"No. Walking back to Goodneighbor as wounded as we are, we're going to need every threatening image we can muster."

Ryker nodded. She commanded the remaining three of the Watch to start scavenging while she tended to the wounded man.

V motioned for Rob and Evan to join her in Asshole's shack and they disappeared behind the ratty curtain, V taking notice of Ryker's eyes following them.

"Oh jesus!" Evan groaned and covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his jacket. Turns out, even synthetics cane become putrid after death.

"Let's make this quick so nosey Sarah Ryker doesn't get any more dirt on us," V said in a hushed tone, ignoring Evan's retching. "This fucker worked for Crowley. You guys, he knew a lot of stuff about me."

"And us?" Rob asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so," she replied. "But Crowley is here. He's in the Commonwealth and he's trying to find me."

Evan frowned. "V, maybe we're in a little over our heads here. Maybe we should talk to the mayor – "

"No."

"But he might have resources and connections to – "

"I said no," V replied sternly.

"Evan might be right, V," Rob added. "Getting help from someone here who knows the locale and the more seedy operations might be beneficial for us."

V felt her anger rising again. Instantly, her adrenaline kicked in and her vision blurred. She felt an intense urge to reach for her guns and do away with the men opposing her. Her fingers twitched close to her thighs and she gave herself a shake, clearing her head. "I understand what you're saying, and I _will_ go to Hancock… soon. Right now, though, we just don't know what game everyone is playing. We can't be certain Hancock is on our side. Even if he is _now_ , we can't be certain he'll play ball when he hears about our circumstances. And besides," she laughed humorlessly. "We have a way bigger problem."

"Like?" Rob asked, raising an eyebrow.

V took a in a deep breath and let it out, trying to ease her tremors. "Crowley's just like me, now."

"Like you? How?" Evan asked.

V have the corpse beside her a kick and grunted. "Asshole here went into gory detail on how Crowley got him to follow along with his plans on finding me. He's given himself the same treatment as I got, but I don't know how. He's fast now, and strong. Coupled with his intelligence, I'm afraid of what could happen if the wrong person knew where we were."

Rob shook his head and paced the room. "V, this isn't good. This is really bad and crazy dangerous. We can't let this go on for much longer."

"I know," V replied. "So, I'm going to give Hancock a proposition."

Evan looked up. "What kind?"

"Ma'am? Ma'am!" Ryker's voice came from the other side of the curtain. "The place has been picked over and we are ready to head out."

V sighed. "We'll talk more back at Goodneighbor. Let's get out of here and get some rest first."

So they quickly scrounged up the few resources, guns and ammunition in the shack and met up with the remainder of the Watch. V noticed how tired everyone looked and it reminded her of her own fatigue. Being a partial synth, feeling fatigue was something that took a while to get to her. She had much more stamina then the average human; however, she hadn't slept in nearly forty-eight hours and taking that blow from Asshole had _hurt_. Coupled with the deaths of her team and finding out Alistair was practically on her front doorstep – well, she could certainly feel the strain.

Ryker stepped forward when V and the others reached them. "Ma'am, what will we do with our dead?"

V looked down to see the five bodies placed next to each other, their hands neatly folded, and she grimaced. "We can't bring them home with us like this; we're stretched out too thin."

"What about the synths, ma'am?"

V had completely forgotten about the captive synthetics. She nodded. "Good idea, Ryker. Can we put together some stretchers from the chairs and cloth around here?"

Ryker nodded. "We can make something work."

"Okay then," V said, heaving a large sigh. "Let's get it done so we can go home."


End file.
